


Lead into Gold

by ellemo (kanetrain)



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-18 16:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21279575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanetrain/pseuds/ellemo
Summary: First year at Hogwarts is tough when you are the sons of two famous wizards.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. Getting to Know You

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the opening few pages of the play, during Albus' and Scorpius' first year at Hogwarts. I've used some of the play's dialogue and its chronological order. There are more characters old and new than I added above, but they don't feature very heavily. Descriptions of characters are taken from the books/Harry Potter wiki.
> 
> Thank you to @SilverShroud for the title, and for being my beta/sounding board

As the train pulled out of the station in a cloud of white steam, the small girl with fiery red hair hit her cousin on the arm to get his attention. Frowning, the boy with bright green eyes stepped away from the window that he had been waving goodbye to his parents and sister.

“What?” Albus Potter asked irritably. He was already in an anxious mood about going to Hogwarts and he didn’t need his cousin and her ideas. Rose Granger-Weasley was grinning, unnerving Albus somewhat more than usual and Rose had a habit of unnerving Albus as she was the one who came up with the hare-brained schemes to get them into trouble. Or at least Albus into trouble, as Rose usually managed to worm her way out of it. Uncle Ron always favoured her.

“Come on. We need to scope out the other first years on the train,” she said and pulled him into the busy corridor. Students were finding their way back to their snared compartments after waving off their families. Rose boldly pushed her way through the thinning throng towards the back of the train. An elderly witch pushing a laden trolley full of snacks and refreshments was coming towards them.

“Anything off the trolley, dears? Pumpkin Pasty? Chocolate Frog? Cauldron Cake?”

Albus paused to peruse the selections. His stomach rumbled, he’d been too nervous to eat breakfast and had pretended while his mother tried to coerce him into eating some toast. Just as he was about to ask for a Chocolate Frog he felt an insistent tug on his sleeve.

“Come on, Al!” Rose said bossily, “We need to concentrate. Might as well start from the back and work our way up.” With a sigh, Albus gave the Trolley Witch an apologetic smile, the Chocolate Frogs a wistful glance and followed his cousin.

“Concentrate on what?” Albus asked, not really listening but giving the frogs once last loving look as the Trolley Witch took them out of his sight.

“On who to be friends with of course,” she said. “You do know that my parents and your dad all met on their very first Hogwarts Express trip.”

“Wait,” Albus said, trying to catch her up, “You want us to find life-long friends on the train? That’s quite scary.” Added pressure wasn’t what Albus needed right now. Having endured his brother James’ needling all the way to the station about being sorted into Slytherin, he didn’t need anything else to worry about. His mind was already reeling from the knowledge that his father had almost been sorted into Slytherin. The Gryffindor of all Gryffindors. That information was a little reassuring, but it did not override years and years of prejudice against the serpent house that he had been told had churned out more Dark Wizards than the other houses combined. And in the end, his father was still sorted into Gryffindor. James was in Gryffindor, as were all his older Weasley cousins.

“I’m a Granger-Weasley and you’re a Potter. Everyone will want to be our friends. We’ve got the pick of anyone we want!” Rose insisted excitedly, before peering through the glass of the last compartment. Her brow furrowed a little and then she stepped away. “Maybe we miss this one.”

Albus wanted to know why and looked into the compartment. In there sat a boy about his age, with white-blond hair peering into a paper bag. He looked quite sad and lonely.

“Why?” Albus asked and before Rose could stop him, he had opened the door. The boy looked up to see who had come into his compartment. In an instant his demeanour changed from gloomy to eager. He smiled at Albus who automatically returned it.

“Do you mind if we come in here for a bit?” Albus asked and the boy grinned. Rose hovered at Albus’ shoulder, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

“It’s free. I mean, it’s just me in here. I mean, not at all!” he answered enthusiastically and jumped up out of his seat. “Hi!”

“Albus. Al. Well, my name is Albus.” Albus said awkwardly, introducing himself, unsure of whether to refer himself by his proper name or its contraction.

“Hi Scorpius. I mean, I’m Scorpius. You’re Albus. I’m Scorpius. And you are?” The boy’s pale grey eyes landed on Rose. She arched an eyebrow, looking very much like a red-headed version of her mother.

“Rose,” she answered and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Hi Rose! Would you like some of my Fizzing Whizzbees?”

“No thanks. I’ve just had breakfast,” she said coldly.

“I’ve also got Shock-o-choc, Pepper Imps and Jelly Slugs. Mum’s idea. She says _Sweets always help you make friends_,” the boy rattled off, nervously tripping over his words almost singing. It was obvious that this wasn’t the way he wanted the first introductions to his fellow school-mates to go as he suddenly became shy and his pale cheeks tinged with pink. “Stupid idea probably.” But he limply he offered the paper bag to Albus and Rose.

Albus couldn’t help being amused by this boy’s over-enthusiastic manner, clearly desperate to be friendly.

“I’ll take some. Mum doesn’t let me have sweets.” At this Albus felt another hit on his arm, he tried to ignore it, though it was starting to hurt. Rose really could punch hard when she wanted to. He peered into the sweets bag. “Which one would you start with?”

Scorpius perked up again. “I’ve always regarded the Pepper Imp as king of the confectionary bag. They’re peppermint sweets that make you smoke at the ears.” He shook the bag to see if he could make one rise to the top.

“Brilliant, that’s what I’ll have –“ Albus went to pick up the little black sweet on offer when Rose hit him on the arm again. “Ouch, Rose! Will you please stop hitting me?”

Her cheeks becoming red, Rose bit her lip, angling for the picture of innocence. “I’m not hitting you.”

“You are!”

“She hitting you because of me.” It was Scorpius who answered. His joy at sharing his sweets had turned to gloom once again and he sat down, looking at the floor. “I know you’re Albus Potter and she’s Rose Granger-Weasley. Well, I’m Scorpius Malfoy. You know, son of Draco and Astoria Malfoy? Our parents, they didn’t get on.” He hesitantly glanced up to see their reaction.

Albus had heard the Malfoy name mentioned by his parents, usually in collaboration with what was happening at the Ministry and it wasn’t usually spoken about in a friendly manner.

“That’s putting it mildly. Your parents are Death Eaters,” Rose retorted and hit Albus on the arm once more to try and get him to leave.

“Dad was. Mum wasn’t!” argued Scorpius, clearly affronted by the accusation, his gloom turning quickly into anger. “Dad and Grandfather helped put all the Death Eaters in Azkaban.” He clocked Rose’s expression of shame at accusing someone of being a Death Eater, yet she still didn’t want to stay in this compartment with him. “And I know the rumour.”

Clueless, Albus looked between Rose and Scorpius. They seemed to know a secret that he didn’t. Not unsurprising as Rose’s mother, Hermione, was Minister for Magic. Even though his own father also worked at the Ministry, he never told Albus or his brother or sister anything about his work. Always citing it either too boring, too dangerous or too secret.

“What is the rumour?” Albus asked.

“It’s not true,” Scorpius said. He looked back at the floor, somehow finding courage in the carpet’s pattern. “The rumour is my parents couldn’t have children; that Dad and Grandfather were so desperate for a powerful heir to preserve the end of the Malfoy line that they used a Time Turner to send Mum back.”

Albus was still confused. He shook his head and looked at Rose.

“The rumour is he’s Voldemort’s son,” she explained exasperatedly. A heavy silence descended around the three of them. Scorpius looked helpless, Rose still wanted to leave and Albus’ mouth dropped open, giving him the impression of a dog trying to understand human language.

“You’re probably not though,” Rose added to quell the awkwardness. “I mean, you’ve got a nose.”

“And it’s just like my Dad’s!” Scorpius added quickly, grabbing onto this life-line away from humiliation. “I have his nose, his hair, his name. Not that that’s a great thing either. I mean, father-son issues, I have them. But on the whole I’d rather be a Malfoy than son of the Dark Lord.” His nerves had taken over again and he was rattling away, talking too much. Albus smiled, he knew what it was like to have father-son issues. He wasn’t like his brother, nothing ever seemed to bother him. James was confident and sometimes a little arrogant, even though he hadn’t done anything special to warrant the egotism. Trying to live up to his brother, let alone his famous father, and now coming to Hogwarts where he will be compared with the great Harry Potter, he felt a kinship with Scorpius, that this was someone who could understand what he was going through.

“We should probably go, now. Come on Al,” Rose said, giving Albus another whack on his arm. That had done it. He truly was getting annoyed with the way Rose could boss him around. Because they were the same age, they had always hung around together. Their other cousins, and they had many, were either too old to want to associate with the younger ones, or too young being the babies of the family. Rose and Albus had been stuck in the middle together and she had always been bossy. They would always do what she wanted to do, play the games she wanted to play.

Albus turned to her with a frown and said self-assuredly, “No. I’m okay. You go.”

“I won’t wait,” she said.

“I wouldn’t expect you too,” Albus said firmly. “I’m staying here.”

With a noise of exasperation, Rose turned her nose up in the air. “Fine.” And she stormed off out of the compartment and down the train corridor.

Shyly Scorpius smiled. “Thank you.”

“Oh, I only stayed for your sweets,” Albus grinned and took the seat opposite Scorpius, eyeing off the bag.

“She’s quite fierce,” Scorpius said, angling his head towards the compartment door to indicate Rose.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Scorpius grinned. “No, I like it. Do prefer Albus or Al?” Plucking the black sweet on off the top of the bag, Scorpius popped it into his mouth. Albus pursed his lips as he thought. His whole family called him Al and he never really liked it. This was a chance to change that.

“Albus,” he replied.

Scorpius nodded, then all of a sudden his eyes went wide and smoke poured out of his ears causing Albus to break out into gales of laughter.

****

That morning, Scorpius had been up early, just as the sun had peeked over the horizon. He had woken in the golden light filtering in behind heavy curtains and grinned to himself. The sun was shining brightly, the air smelled fresher, the bird song was beautiful and today, _today_ was the first of September. He had already been packed for a week, but once up and dressed, Scorpius repacked his truck again to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. He had robes, school supplies and most importantly, his wand. Blackthorn, eleven inches with unicorn hair core. He’d had his wand since he had turned eleven earlier in the year from a special one-off trip to Diagon Alley with his dad. And from that moment he had been counting the days until he could go to Hogwarts. Much to his dad’s annoyance, Scorpius had occasionally marked the passage of time on his wand, carving little numerals on the handle. It was a lonely existence at Malfoy Manor, and Hogwarts was a chance to get away from the isolation, to finally have friends.

Almost skipping down to breakfast, Scorpius sang to himself and in his haste, tripped on the bottom stair into the dining room. His father, Draco was already sitting at the head on the long table. He glanced at the clumsiness of his son and shook his head.

“Graceful, Scorpius,” he commented and went back to reading his newspaper. Sometimes Scorpius wasn’t sure whether his dad was being funny or scolding him.

“Sorry, Dad. I’m just excited,” he said and squirmed onto his seat beside his father. Almost instantly a breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast appeared on the plate in front of him. Starving, he tucked in.

“About what?” Draco asked playfully, still hidden behind the Daily Prophet.

“Daaaaad!” Scorpius whined through the mouthful of bacon. He quickly chewed and swallowed. “You know why.”

“Is someone going to Hogwarts today?” His mother, Astoria had walked into the room. Still in her dressing gown, she leaned down she kissed Scorpius on the top of his head. “Good morning. All packed?”

“Yes, I’ve been packed for a week,” Scorpius said grinning.

Draco put his paper down to look at his wife. She was extremely pale, her dark hair accentuating how little colour she held in her face. “How are you feeling today?” he asked with concern.

“I’m fine. I can’t miss seeing my boy off today,” she said, sitting down opposite Scorpius.

“Mum, if you don’t feel well enough, I understand,” Scorpius said hesitantly. He disliked seeing his mother so ill. She had been ill for most of his life, a blood malediction passed down from a cursed ancestor. She had good days and bad, but the lately the bad days were starting to outnumber the good. 

“I’ll feel better after I’ve eaten and had my potion,” she replied with a smile. Draco reached over the table and gently squeezed Astoria’s hand. 

It had only been the three of them, if you didn’t count the house-elf, rattling around in the large house and estate. His Grandfather and Grandmother Malfoy had moved to the south of France to live in the family’s winter retreat a few years ago and so Scorpius had grown up alone, with only Malfoy Manor’s large library to keep him company. He had read every book, apart from the Darker tomes his father had forbidden. He had yearned to go to Hogwarts for so long, if it was just to get away from the dark grey walls of his home. Excursions out were very few and far between, even trips to his Greengrass relatives didn’t last long as they didn’t like his father. Just as Grandfather Malfoy didn’t like his mother very much. It had been a tense childhood, yet the library was always there for him, to hide away, pretend he had friends to go on great adventures with.

*****

“So, you have no cousins or anything?” Albus asked, once his own ears had stopped smoking after devouring the last of the Pepper Imps. He’d been enjoying sitting and talking with Scorpius, though he wasn’t sure they could come from more different homes.

“No. Mum has a sister but she doesn’t have any kids. Grandfather didn’t have any siblings, Grandmother had two sisters, but one married a Muggle-born so she was cut off from the family, and the other was killed at Battle of Hogwarts,” Scorpius replied, looking anxiously at his new friend, hoping this information wasn’t going to make him run away.

Albus thought for a moment, he didn’t really know who was related to who in the Wizarding World, what with having too many cousins of his own to take stock of. 

“I have some seriously Dark relatives,” Scorpius said, trying to make light of the situation. “Even though Mum’s family are pure-bloods, she didn’t really go in for that ‘all Muggles are scum’ thing that Grandfather Malfoy did.”

Albus was intrigued. He’d never heard anyone talk about the Dark side like that before. Actually, no one did talk about it. Voldemort was defeated and that was it, Darkness gone. But it wasn’t. Scorpius had to live with that fall out.

“So, if your dad was a Death Eater, he must have some pretty bad things,” asked Albus. “Sorry, I don’t mean to accuse, I’m just interested.” He added quickly when he saw Scorpius’ momentary expression of despair.

“You’ve never read your dad’s biography?” Scorpius asked.

Albus shook his head. He had enough of Harry Potter talk when Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione came to dinner, he didn’t want to read about it as well. Also it was seven volumes long, and Albus didn’t much like reading.

“Well, Dad doesn’t come off so well. He said it was all very biased, but he did do some things he regretted – “ Scorpius bit his lip before saying very quickly “- like trying to murder Albus Dumbledore.”

“Your dad tried to kill Dumbledore?” Albus exclaimed a little too loudly. In that moment it was like the train engine had stopped and all the world had heard his exclamation.

“And he kind of accidentally poisoned your Uncle Ron too,” Scorpius screwed up his face, waiting for Albus to run out of the compartment. Why would he want to stay here with the son of a former Dark Wizard?

Albus blinked, but didn’t move from his seat. 

“But he didn’t want to. Voldemort made him. He never wanted to be a Death Eater, not really, but he had to because of my Grandfather. But can you see why, even if Dad did have a Time Turner, he wouldn’t send Mum back to have anything to do with him. Dad turned on all the Death Eaters after the War. He gave them all up and on his information, like I said they all went to Azkaban. I think that was part of the reason we kind of hid away from the world. Dad didn’t want his reputation to tarnish mine. You can go now, if you want to. I’ll understand if you don’t want to be anywhere near me,” Scorpius looked thoroughly depressed now. He picked through his sweet bag to see if there was anything left. A lone jelly slug was sitting at the bottom. He put it into his mouth and slurped it up.

“It’s not like we can choose our parents,” Albus said, “but we can choose our friends.”

Scorpius smiled, “I’ve never had a friend before. Well, I had an imaginary one. But he didn’t like me much either.”

Albus laughed. “You are weird.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I like it.”

Stretched out on the bench seats with the compartment to themselves, Albus and Scorpius spent the rest of the train journey comparing family stories.

“You got to go to the World Cup in Patagonia? Wow, I am so jealous,” Scorpius exclaimed, sitting up when Albus had casually dropped into conversation their family trip to South America.

“Mum was correspondent for the Daily Prophet so we all went. It was pretty fun,” Albus grinned. He loved Quidditch and it was a highlight of his life to able to see his favourite player Brazilian Chaser Gonçalo Flores play.

“Wow,” Scorpius said again and slumped dramatically back in his seat. He remembered following Ginny Potter’s coverage in the paper. Every day his father would read the match reports to him over breakfast and then they would go out into the grounds and re-enact some of the plays. His dad was a great flyer and Scorpius had always wanted to be as good as him. He hoped that once he hit second year, he would be able to try out for Seeker for his house team.

“I’m not very good on a broom,” Albus confessed. “James got all the talent there. I’m going to be so rubbish.”

“I love flying,” Scorpius enthused and then he waved his hand, “You won’t be rubbish. Flying’s easy once you get the hang of it. Mum and Dad got me Firebolt for my tenth birthday.” From an extremely wealthy family, Scorpius’ parents hadn’t given into many of his pleadings, determined he would not to grow up like his father, a self-entitled brat but the racing broomstick was the one indulgence they had allowed.

All the worries Albus had been trying to ignore resurfaced, he sighed heavily and leaned his head against the window. It was growing darker more quickly the further north they went. The sun had almost disappeared behind a large mountain range, turning the shadows to a deep purple.

“Everything okay?” Scorpius asked, noticing the sudden dejection that had descended on Albus’s face. 

“James reckons I’m going to be sorted into Slytherin,” he confessed. “Dad said it doesn’t matter, but everyone and I mean everyone in my family was or is in Gryffindor.”

“I’ll be in Slytherin,” Scorpius replied with a nonchalant shrug. “I’m a Malfoy and there has never not ever not been a Malfoy in Slytherin.” He frowned at the inelegance of his sentence. “You know what I mean.” He looked over towards Albus’ reflection in the train window and found his eyes. “It wouldn’t be so bad to be in Slytherin, would it?”

“I don’t want to disappoint my family,” Albus said quietly.

“If you go into Gryffindor and me into Slytherin, would you still talk to me?” Scorpius asked hopefully, “This has been nice. You know, just talking.”

“Of course I’ll talk to you. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Albus perked up a little. Scorpius was right, this had been nice. He couldn’t be this honest with his family, for one, James would never let him live it down. Albus had always been the quiet one, reserved and thoughtful and with such a big family, no-one had ever noticed how quiet he really was.

“I hope so,” Scorpius replied and then excitedly pointed out of the window. “Hogsmeade!”

“You get distracted easily,” Albus commented and pressed his nose to the window. He saw the flickering lamps of the station and a large silhouette standing on the platform. As expected Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor was there to meet the train

“Yeah,” Scorpius replied, jumping up to drag his trunk down from the overhead rack. “I have a short attention span. It drives Dad nuts. Hogwarts ahoy!”


	2. Lion into Serpent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had meant to post the whole fic and not just the first chapter, so here's the rest.

Students old and new crammed onto the little stone platform, accompanied by loud chatter and the noises of many different animals in assorted cages.

“First years!” came Hagrid’s call over the din. “First years this way.”

Excitedly Scorpius tapped Albus on the arm and immediately apologised when he realised he was doing the exact same thing Rose had done earlier on the train. “Boats, boats, boats!”

Caught up in Scorpius’ excitement, Albus hurried along, following the white-blond hair that seemed to glow in the overhead lamplights. He was grateful for the half darkness, that way no-one would be able to recognise who he was, or at least whose son his was, as every single person he had ever met never failed to point out just how alike in looks he was to his dad. Jet black hair that wouldn’t sit down and bright green eyes.

A large giant of a man with a great bushy beard that was shot with grey and twinkling beetle black eyes held up a lantern, drawing the first year towards him like moths to a flame. His friendly face beamed down at all the new students and his beard twitched into a broad smile when he spotted a face he recognised.

“Hello Rose. How are your parents?” he asked in a friendly deep voice.

Rose grinned at the attention. “Great!” she enthused, bouncing on her toes, “They said to say hello.”

A few of the other students standing close to Albus started to gossip about who she was.

“Is that Rose Granger-Weasley?”

“Her mum is Minister for Magic!”

Albus tried to sink into the shadows. It wouldn’t be long before they knew he was in the group. Second son of the famous Harry Potter.

“Where’s Albus?” Hagrid asked Rose, who shrugged uncomfortably.

“Erm, not sure. We got separated,” she answered and looked about the crowd scanning the faces for her cousin.

“Albus _Potter_?” exclaimed a voice from behind Albus in a low excited whisper. “We have a Potter in our year? I bet he’s just like his dad.”

Wanting to dig a hole and hide away forever, Albus groaned. It was already starting; the comparisons to his father and the expectations to live up to his famous name. Not only was he a Potter, he had also been named after one of the world’s greatest wizards and former Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.

The group shuffled forwards towards the little boats and when Albus reached the place where Hagrid was standing, directing traffic. He paused and said hello.

“Albus!” Hagrid greeted excitedly. “Good to see you. Your dad told you we’re having afternoon tea on Friday?”

“Yup,” Albus said, trying to ignore the comments of the passing kids, who were getting into the boats

“Told you!”

“He does look like him!”

“He has his hair!”

“You think he has the scar too?”

Hagrid’s eye landed on Scorpius who was standing next to Albus, taking in his white-blond hair, grey eyes and pale pointed face. His beard twitched again, the smile behind it had obviously faded. “Hm, a Malfoy huh?” he said coldly and Albus felt a pang of shame at Hagrid’s rudeness.

Before Scorpius could answer, a passing voice called out. “A Voldemort you mean.” And the speaker chuckled, along with a few others. There was also a gasp of fear from a couple of girls standing near Scorpius and hurried along ahead to get away from him.

“I’m not a Voldemort!” he called out to his accusers, but they only laughed more. In an instant, Scorpius’ excitement about the journey across the lake had disappeared and his face fell. He sloped off towards the boats, getting into the last empty one. Albus followed him in.

“No one’s going to believe me, are they?” Scorpius asked, sounding utterly depressed. “What’s better anyway? You saw the look on Hagrid’s face when he realised I was Malfoy. Dad wasn’t very nice to him.”

“I believe you’re not Voldemort’s child,” Albus replied, although he had a sudden curiosity about Scorpius’ father and just how bad he really was.

“Thanks,” Scorpius smiled and then made a squeak of surprise when the boat started to move away from the dock. His expression turned back into one of wonder as soon as the beautiful sight of the Hogwarts Castle came into view. He wasn’t the only one impressed by the vista. There were many _oohs_ and _aahs_ coming from the surrounding boats. Albus stared at the castle. It was very impressive. He remembered James telling him that Gryffindor Tower was one of the three tallest towers of the Castle and he idly wondered in which one of those he could see he would be spending the next seven years.

It had been obvious in the short time Albus had known Scorpius that his new friend was quite learned about Hogwarts and the castle so he asked, “Where is the Slytherin Dormitory?”

“In the Dungeons. That makes it sound horrible. Well, more of a basement, really. Dad says it’s under the lake, nice and quiet and serene. Sometimes he saw the Giant Squid swimming past the windows,” Scorpius replied, his eyes still fixed on the castle in front of them that was slowly drawing nearer. Albus liked the idea of the quiet, somewhere to hide away from his father’s reputation. And James. He did love his brother, but he could be a little annoying sometimes. Like Uncle Ron’s jokes, James was best enjoyed in small amounts.

The boats docked and the new first years, following Hagrid’s swinging lantern scrambled up the stairs to the front door of the castle. With every step Albus could feel nerves growing in his stomach, while Scorpius became more excited.

“I can’t wait for the Sorting,” Albus heard Rose’s voice. She was standing with a bunch of other girls who all nodded and agreed with her, almost squealing with delight.

Suddenly a tall slim witch with violet hair appeared on the steps before the gaggle of new students. She had bright violet eyes that matched her hair, hidden behind thick black framed glasses which sat on a long thin nose.

“Quiet!” she commanded and the rabble instantly fell silent. “I am Professor Kelleen. Welcome to Hogwarts. Follow me through to the Great Hall where you will be sorted into your houses.”

The large oak doors opened onto a magnificent Hall. Four large tables were already filled with students wearing the colours of the houses and looking right at them. Albus felt his face go bright red. He walked in beside Scorpius, who was looking in awe up at the ceiling.

“It’s bewitched, to make it look like the sky,” Scorpius mused. Tonight the sky was clear and the moon shone brightly overhead, a large pearl in the deep blue beyond. Albus glanced up. All the stories he had heard of the famous ceiling didn’t do it justice. He couldn’t wait for a rainy day. He loved watching the rain, but hated getting wet. Under this ceiling he would be able to lie back and just watch the raindrops fall on top of him without need for shelter.

Still lost in his thoughts, it took Albus a few moments to realise he was standing at the front of the room, listening to the song of the Sorting hat.

“I’ve done this job for centuries,

On every student’s head I’ve sat

Of thoughts I take inventories

For I’m the famous Sorting Hat.

I’ve sorted high, I’ve sorted low,

I’ve done the job through thick and thin

So put me on and you will know

Which house you should be in”

The Sorting Hat finished it song, gave a little waggle of its pointed tip in recognition of the polite applause it was getting. Professor Kelleen stepped forward again and unrolled a scroll of parchment and read out the first name.

“Craig Bowker Jr”

A short boy with dark hair hurried up to the stool and put on the hat. There were a few moments of silence before the hat called out, “Slytherin!” With a content smile, he took off the hat and went to sit at the far table.

“Polly Chapman.”

One of the girls who had been standing with Rose, with golden hair in soft curls and a very short skirt peeking out from under her robes went up to the stool and sat under the hat. After a few seconds the hat yelled out, “Gryffindor.” The girl skipped away to sit at the Gryffindor table, who were clapping to welcome their new addition. To help settle his stomach from churning, Albus looked up at the teacher’s table. He smiled broadly when he spied his godfather, Neville Longbottom, sitting right at the far end on the left. Catching Albus’s eye, Neville waved and winked.

“Who’s that?” Scorpius asked in a whisper, noticing Albus return the wave as a boy called Yann Fredricks raced up to the Sorting Hat.

“My godfather, Neville. I mean Professor Longbottom. He teaches Herbology.”

“My dad wasn’t very nice to him,” Scorpius lamented offhandedly and turned his attention back to the Sorting.

“Rose Granger-Weasley!”

Excitedly Rose ran forward and eagerly sat on the stool. The hat had barely touched her head when it yelled out “Gryffindor!”

“Thank Dumbledore for that,” she sighed in relief and a few people chuckled. She ran off to sit next to Polly. Albus’ stomach had really started to flip somersaults now. The names were getting closer to his.

“Scorpius Malfoy!”

Whispers followed Scorpius up to the stool, Albus caught one or two of the not-so subtle comments.

“The Malfoys are all evil.”

“He’ll be in Slytherin no doubt.”

The large hat fell over Scorpius’ eyes and he heard a soft voice in his head.

“Hm, a Malfoy. I know exactly what to do with you, and yet…” the Hat paused in its discussion and Scorpius felt anxious. He’d already been on a large roller coaster of emotions today. The longer the hat remained quiet, the more anxious he became. Finally the hat started up its quiet discussion once more, wondering what to do with him. It felt like forever before the Hat yelled out “Slytherin!”

Scorpius fought his way out of the large hat and made his way over to the Slytherin table who were clapping although not enthusiastically. He sat down and the girl next of him shuffled over to ensure there was a clear eight inches of space between them. He looked at Albus, worried his new friend wasn’t going to be joining him in the house of green and silver.

“That makes sense!” Someone yelled out. The unspoken comment inferring that Malfoy or Voldemort, Scorpius belonged in the house of Dark Wizards.

“Albus Potter!”

Louder whispers accompanied Albus up to the stool. He looked over to the Gryffindor table. He saw Rose beaming brightly, then his eyes found James, who grinned and pointed at an empty space on the bench beside him. Taking a deep breath, Albus put the Hat on his head. He thought about what his father had said on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, that he would be able to choose to go into Gryffindor if he wanted to, the Sorting Hat would take his choice into account. He thought of his brother and cousins, all of them expecting him to go into Gryffindor. Finally, he thought of Scorpius, the strange unconventional boy he had instantly taken a liking to.

“Slytherin!” the Hat roared and the whole Hall fell silent. Albus emerged from the hat to a Hall full of surprised faces. Apparently everyone and not just his family, was expecting Harry Potter’s son to be sorted into Gryffindor too.

He saw Rose stand up. “No, Albus, this isn’t right!” she called out, but was soon drowned out by rest of the Hall talking loudly at this turn of unforeseen events.

“A Potter in Slytherin?”

“He mustn’t be like Harry at all.”

“You can sit next to me!” That was Scorpius and patted the bench space beside him. In a daze, Albus moved towards the Slytherin table, away from his family.

With a look over towards the Gryffindor table, Albus sat down next to Scorpius and then stared at the empty gold plate in front of him. Slytherin. He had been sorted into Slytherin. All his fears had come true. Rose was right, this wasn’t supposed to happen. He was a Potter and Potters belong in Gryffindor. This was all James’ fault. If he hadn’t been going on and on about it on the way to King’s Cross, the thought of being sorted into Slytherin wouldn’t have been in Albus’ mind. He ground his teeth and settled in for a good brood. Yes, he would blame James.

With his mind set on all the things he could do to his brother, making a mental note to ask Uncle Ron about some of the finer points of pranking, he hadn’t realised the Sorting was over and the feast had started him until he felt gentle nudge.

“Are you going to eat?” asked Scorpius, reaching over to the large pile of roast potatoes sitting in front of them. Albus looked up.

“Oh,” he said and eyed the mountain of food that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “I guess.” He looked over the different plates on offer, feeling slightly nauseous. Yet, his stomach rumbled to remind him of how little food he had had today and decided on the roast chicken.

“It doesn’t mean you’re evil,” Scorpius murmured intuitively, noticing the unemotional look on his new friend’s face. “You know, being in Slytherin.”

“I guess,” Albus said again and took an unenthusiastic bite of chicken. It was rather nice though. His dad didn’t roast chicken as well as that. “It’s just..” he paused to swallow, “All I’ve heard growing up is that Slytherin is evil. You know that Sirius Black? Dad’s godfather? He bucked the trend of his pure-blood family and got put into Gryffindor because he wasn’t evil.”

“My grandmother is a Black,” Scorpius said. “She was in Slytherin and she lied right to Voldemort’s face and saved your dad’s life.”

Albus turned to face his friend. “What?” Being of a proud pure-blood family, of course Scorpius would be related to the Blacks.

“You really should read your dad’s biography,” Scorpius smiled and took a drink of pumpkin juice. His face screwed up in distaste. “Grandmother may have followed the pure-blood ideal, but I’m just saying, everything isn’t black and white. The good guys don’t get put into Gryffindor and the bad guys in Slytherin. Nothing’s that simple.” He leaned down conspiratorially and whispered low. “The Sorting Hat was thinking about putting me into Hufflepuff. Don’t tell Dad. I think he would literally die.”

“A Malfoy in Hufflepuff can’t be any worse than a Potter in Slytherin,” Albus said, a smile threatening the corners of his mouth.

“The difference is that your dad wouldn’t die of shame,” Scorpius said. “Besides, I look horrible in yellow. I’m too pale, it washes me out.” He let out a bark of laughter at a sudden thought. “Malfoy Manor would collapse in on itself if I painted my bedroom yellow. I might try that over Christmas.”

Albus couldn’t help chuckling too. He sat up straighter in his seat and intently tucked into his meal. Green was a good colour. It was a relaxing colour, a soothing colour. And it would match his eyes.

Once the feast was over the Headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall, stood up to address the students. She was a very old witch, dressed head to toe in tartan, with a sprig of thistle pinned to her hat.

“Welcome. Just a few announcements before you can go to your houses. As I have to tell students every year, the Forbidden Forest is just that, forbidden. It is Centaur land and they do not take kindly to uninvited visitors. Please stay out of there. Last thing we need is a herd of angry centaurs.” There was a clear frustration in her tone, obviously this was something the student population didn’t take any notice of. She continued in the same stern voice. “There is a list of banned items pinned to the noticeboard in each Common Room, take the time to read it. Anyone, second year and above, wanting to try out for their Quidditch Teams give your names to your Head of House.“

Scorpius bounced a little in his seat at the mention of Quidditch. “Who’s our Head of House?” he asked.

“You can’t try out, you’re only a first year,” Albus said.

“Still, it’s good to know these things.”

Another first-year boy sitting opposite Scorpius had overheard the question and answered, “Professor Viola Richmond.” He pointed over to a young witch sitting next to Hagrid at the high table. She had dark skin and dark eyes and jet-black hair that fell in a long silken cascade down her back. Both Albus and Scorpius stared with their mouths open. She was absolutely stunning.

“I heard a couple older students on the train talking about her,” said the boy and stood up when Professor McGonagall had stopped speaking. He reached over to the dumbstruck boys and held out his hand. “I’m Craig.”

Scorpius was first to recover and shook the boy’s hand. “Scorpius,” he said and added, “But you probably know that already” when he realised that the whole school would know who he was considering they’d just watch him get Sorted and he had come to the school with a reputation. He bumped Albus who was still transfixed by the beautiful teacher.

“What?” Albus looked around. “Oh!” He stood up, following the rest of the students who were filing out of the Hall. “I have a lot of things on my mind.”

“We should probably follow the Prefects,” Craig nodded his head in the direction of an older Slytherin boy and girl who were calling over the rabble for the first years. He heard a familiar loud voice calling for the Gryffindor first years. There in her usual braids was cousin Molly Weasley, a shiny red Prefect badge on her chest.

“Good point,” Albus said, turning away from Molly and the three of them hurried over to join the throng of new Slytherins who were being taken to their new dormitory. As they walked through Entrance Hall, Albus felt a hard prod in his back. Angrily, he turned to see the laughing face of James. He was surrounded by three other Gryffindor boys, all chortling.

“I told you you’d be in Slytherin. I can’t wait to tell Dad! Slytherin! Slytherin!” James sang and before Albus could reply, he and his friends raced off in the direction of the marble staircase to take them up to Gryffindor Tower. 

“That’s your...” Scorpius started to ask, but Albus grunted “Yes” before he could say the word ‘brother’.

“What a charming young man,” Scorpius replied. Albus sighed.

They walked across the flagged stone floor, being led towards a door at the base of the main staircase, down a spiral staircase that opened up onto a wide stone corridor. It felt cold down here and Albus shuddered, pulling his robes up around his shoulders.

“Why the Dungeons?” he complained, rubbing his arms to warm them up from the cool draught. “Why can’t we be somewhere with a view?”

“Great, we get the Potter reject,” said one of the other new students unkindly. A couple others laughed.

“And mouldy Voldy’s son,” said another. There was more laughter. Both Albus’ and Scorpius’ cheeks went red. Without thinking, Albus pulled out his wand and aimed it at the student who had insulted him.

“That’s enough!” said their Prefect. She glared at Albus to put his wand away. “No wands in the corridors. That’s a detention if a teacher catches you.”

Meekly, he put his wand away. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to do with it. He’d always had trouble with spells. When he got his wand, his Mum had tried to teach him a couple simple ones, like _Lumos_ and _Alohomora_, but he’d never managed to get them to work as easily as she made it seem.

The Prefect stood in front of a large stretch of blank wall and said, “_Non ducor duco_” and a panel in the wall opened in front of them. Scorpius took note of where the panel opened in the long, featureless corridor, before shuffling in last behind the other Slytherins.

The common room was quite large and spacious, bathed in an unearthly, yet pleasant greenish glow. There were rich dark green leather and velvet buttoned sofas and elaborately carved chairs in front of a large ornate marble fireplace. Big stained-glass windows lined the wall that faced the lake, the water creating a gentle rippling effect in the light.

“It looks like home,” Scorpius commented, glancing up at the tapestries that lined the walls. “All it needs is a suit of armour… oh, there. I see it.”

“Listen up kiddos,” called the Prefect and she stood on a low coffee table to gain attention. “My name is Orla Finch. This is Jasper Mueller –“ she pointed to the boy standing next to her on the floor “– We’re the fifth year Prefects. Any issues, come to us. The girls’ dorm is through the door on the left, boys on the right. And that’s it. Oh, the password changes every fortnight, so don’t forget to check the notice board on Sunday night. No password, no entrance. Anything else?” She directed this last question to her fellow Prefect who shook his head.

“In that case, Welcome to Slytherin! The best house at Hogwarts,” she finished and waved her hands in the air with an excited “Wooo!”. There were a few cheers, but most of the first years stood silent and scared. Albus and Scorpius hung back to allow the other students to go through to the dormitories first. Instead, they walked over to the fireplace and Albus sat down on a leather footstool pulling it up to the greenish flames.

“Does this place really look like your house?” he asked Scorpius who stood with his back to the flames.

“Yup. Malfoy Manor is a little less green and much much bigger, but yeah.” He noticed the astonished look on Albus’ face. “We are extremely rich and important,” he added in a low voice, doing his best impression of his Grandfather.

“Yeah, yellow would not suit this décor,” Albus quipped.

Older students began to filter into the Common Room, some giving the two newbies sitting in the prime position in front of the fireplace a dirty look for being in their well-deserved chairs. Years of the hard yards sitting in the darker, colder corners of the Common Room, the seventh-year students made the hierarchy of seating arrangements very clear.

“Okay! Okay! We’re going, we’re going,” Albus exclaimed, grabbing Scorpius by his robes and dragging him towards the Dormitory, when one of the large beefy seventh-year girl got her wand out and threatened them with the Bat-Bogey Hex.

“She seriously needs to cut down on the caffeine,” Scorpius remarked, squeaking when the girl’s friend threw dagger-eyes at him.

The door marked “First Years” was the first in the long stone passageway. Albus pushed open the door. There were five four-poster beds, with green velvet drapes; three already occupied with discarded clothes and school books. Craig was sitting on the bed closest to the window with two other boys he introduced as Artair McKenna and Forest Cole.

“Nice of you to join us,” Artair said in a low gruff voice. He was the largest of the three in both height and width, with light brown hair and a ruddy face.

“We were exploring the Common Room,” Albus lied and chose one of the remaining beds to sit on. There was already a scarf, tie and jumper in Slytherin colours waiting for him on the green duvet

“Is Voldemort really your dad?” Forest asked Scorpius, without any preamble. He had been sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs, and chin on his knees on the window sill. Unfolding his long slender limbs to sit upright, he looked like an overgrown spider.

“No,” Scorpius replied firmly.

“But you are Death Eaters, right?” Forest insisted.

“No!”

“Draco Malfoy is so a Death Eater. Dad told me. How come he’s not in Azkaban?” added Artair.

Scorpius sighed, he had a feeling he would be having this conversation with every new person he met. “He was a Death Eater, he isn’t anymore.”

“Same difference,” said Forest offhandedly. He turned his attention to Albus. “And you’re Harry Potter’s son.”

“I know I am,” replied Albus.

“That’s pretty wow,” offered Craig, “I mean Harry Potter. _The_ Harry Potter.”

“Why aren’t you in Gryffindor?” asked Artair. “If you’re Harry Potter’s son, you should be in Gryffindor.”

“I don’t know,” Albus said, beginning to get a little annoyed with the interrogation. “Can we save the Sorting Quiz until tomorrow? I’m tired.” He looked around and spied his trunk sitting against the wall. He got up and dragged it closer to his bed to fish out his pyjamas. This was definitely not how he wanted his first day at Hogwarts to go. Now all he wanted to do was go to bed and hope everything was some sort of bad nightmare. Tomorrow, he would wake up, back in his own bed at home, ready for his first trip on the Hogwarts Express.

“Ooh, someone hasn’t had their afternoon nap,” Artair jeered and Forest chuckled. Albus pulled down one side of the velvet drapes on his bed to block them out.

Scorpius peered around the end post. He gave Albus a sympathetic smile. “Goodnight, Albus.” he said softly and commandeered the adjacent empty bed. “They’ll get over it.” He sounded hopeful for his own situation.

“I hope so,” Albus murmured. If today was all just a nightmare, there was one thing he hoped wouldn’t change and that was meeting his new friend. “Goodnight Scorpius.”


	3. Classes, Classes, Classes

The next morning when Albus opened his eyes, all he could see was green. The light filtering in through the window was casting an eerie green glow over all the occupants of the first-year dormitory. It hadn’t been a nightmare. He was still in Slytherin. He looked over to the bed beside him, Scorpius was still sleeping, the duvet gently rising and falling with his soft snoring. He checked his watch. Being under the lake it was difficult tell whether the sun had risen or not. It was barely five o’clock in the morning. Albus let his head fall back to his pillow and closed his eyes, a couple more hours of sleep then he would go down for breakfast and deal with what the new day had to offer.

At breakfast the regular influx of owls flew in through the Great Hall. A large eagle owl landed in front of Scorpius and a smaller tawny landed in Albus’s bacon and eggs. A piece of egg splattered Albus’ nose and he heard a chuckle from the nearby Ravenclaw table. There were two letters attached to the owl’s leg, one for him and one for James. After wiping his face, Albus took his letter and set it aside before going back to his breakfast. The owl then ruffled its wings and flew over to the Gryffindor table, leaving Albus in a spray of feathers. 

“You’re not going to read it?” Scorpius asked. He had received a package of sweets from his parents as well as one of his favourite books he had forgotten to pack in all his excitement. The Malfoy’s eagle owl settled down next to Scorpius and nuzzled his hand for a pet. Scorpius offered it a bit of his bacon and it eagerly gobbled it down.

“I’ll read it later. It’s from Dad,” Albus said around his mouthful of eggs. Scorpius left the bag of sweets open on the table between them to share. Taking a quill and some parchment out of his bag, Scorpius wrote a note to his parents, attached it to his owl and gave the bird one last piece of bacon before sending it on its way. They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, Albus glancing every now and then to the letter sitting on the table beside him.

Finally Scorpius burst out. “Just open it! Clearly you want to.”

Albus gave Scorpius a side-eye glance. “Fine,” he said gruffly, annoyed that Scorpius was too observant for his own good. Albus ripped open the envelope and read:

_Dear Al_ – involuntarily Albus’ jaw clenched – _James wrote to us last night to tell us you were sorted into Slytherin. Ignore his jesting, he doesn’t mean it maliciously, you know that. As I told you at the station, Slytherin is fortunate to have someone like you amongst their number. We are proud of you no matter house you are in and I know you will do your very best. We love you very much. Dad xx_

Surreptitiously, Scorpius had been reading the note over Albus’ shoulder.

“That’s friendly,” he said, forgetting he wasn’t supposed to be looking at his friend’s private mail. Albus screwed up the note and threw it onto the table. Just then a hand reached between Albus and Scorpius and picked out a sweet from the open bag.

“What’s up, Salazar?” It was James. He chewed down the Jelly Slug he had pilfered and slapped Albus on the back. Albus spluttered out the mouthful of pumpkin juice he’d just drunk.

“Shut up, James. And did you have to snitch to Dad about it?” he growled, using a napkin to wipe his face once more.

“Aww, poor little Alby,” James cooed and muscled his way in between Albus and Scorpius to sit down at the Slytherin table, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulders. He helped himself to another sweet as he looked to Scorpius and frowned. “And who are you?”

“Scorpius Malfoy.”

James raised an eyebrow in Albus’ direction. “Five minutes in Slytherin and you’re already making friends with the Death Eaters? Geez, Al. I knew you were weird, but not evil.” He laughed at his own joke.

Scorpius blanched whiter than his usual pallor and murmured into his chest, “I’m not a Death Eater.” But James wasn’t listening.

“Stop insulting my friend and go away,” Albus growled again. James stole another sweet from the bag and ruffled Albus’ unkempt hair as he extricated himself from the table.

“Nosebleed Nougat. Good choice.” Scorpius smiled innocently, eyeing the sweet James was about to pop into his mouth.

“What? What do you mean? What have you got in there?” asked James suspiciously, looking at the bag on the table

Scorpius pretended to look into the sweet bag and reeled off some of the dodgy trick sweets he knew Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes sold. “Um, there’s Puking Pastilles, Fever Fudge…”

“What did I eat? What did you give me?” James interrupted, anxious about what would happen to him. He pressed and prodded his stomach and touched his face in case he was about to come out in nasty red boils. Albus started to laugh and James began to relax when he realised he’d been tricked.

“Never trust a Dark Wizard,” Scorpius smiled again. He took one of the sweets and ate it without concern. “Jelly Slugs.”

“Oh very funny, Malfoy,” James scoffed, “I can see why Dad never liked your father.” And just for good measure he clipped Albus around the ear. His brother retaliated and gave him a backhander to his side. James wandered off back to his Gryffindor mates.

“He can dish it out, but can’t take it,” Albus told Scorpius. “I’ve had eleven years of James picking on me and then running to Mum if I ever dared to do something to him.”

“I think I’m glad I’m an only child.”

Just then Head of Slytherin House, the young Professor Richmond stopped in front of where they were sitting. She was wearing long flowing robes of a bright green and her hat sat at a jaunty angle upon her soft dark hair. On anyone else the sight of the bright green may have been comical; however she made it look elegant and sophisticated. She handed them a sheet of parchment. It was their class timetable.

“No problem is there boys?” she asked. Her voice was low and as silky as her hair.

“No, Professor,” they chorused together. “Just my brother,” Albus added when she didn’t seem convinced. The teacher’s demeanour changed from scepticism to delight.

“Ah, you must be the other Mr Potter then,” she said with a friendly smile. Obviously, James had a reputation for troublemaking at school as well as at home. Albus nodded.

“Excellent. We want to encourage good relations between the houses,” she enthused. “None of that old-fashioned thinking. Am I right, Mr Potter?”

“Yes Professor,” he agreed but not overly convinced of it.

“See you in Potions, boys. First period Monday. Don’t be late.” And in a sweep of green, Professor Richmond moved off to deliver timetables to rest of the first years. Scorpius looked at their timetable for Monday, their first day of classes.

“Potions with the Gryffindors, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration. Brilliant!” He tucked his timetable into a diary and stashed it his bag.

Before Albus could take another bite of his breakfast, there was another visitor to their table. Rose. Scorpius gave her his most charming smile. She took a step backward and addressed Albus. Without even a good morning, or a hello, she launched into the reason she was gracing the Slytherin table.

“Maybe if you speak to the Headmistress you could change to Gryffindor,” she said, “The Sorting Hat obviously made a mistake.”

“I’m not changing houses, Rose,” Albus said, stabbing at his toast with his fork.

“But you’re a Potter. You’re supposed to be in Gryffindor,” Rose insisted.

“I just want to eat my breakfast.”

Scorpius leaned on the table, gazing at Rose. He wasn’t sure if it was the commanding attitude, or the bushy hair or the bright blue eyes, or the fact she was the first girl who he wasn’t related to who spoke to him without running away, but he liked Rose. He really, really liked Rose.

As though she could feel Scorpius’ gaze on her, Rose turned and frowned at him. Clearly, she still didn’t like him.

“Come on Al, you should speak to Professor McGonagall about it. She was a Gryffindor herself; she will understand.”

“I told you I’m not changing houses. Now am I allowed to finish breakfast before Halloween arrives?” Albus growled and brandished his toast-filled fork at her.

“Rose!” Another Gryffindor girl came up to them. It was Polly Chapman, one of the girls Rose had sat with at the feast last night. “Why are you talking to Slytherins?”

“This is my cousin Albus,” Rose said and Polly’s eyes went wide.

“Albus Potter? Dumbledore’s beard! Your dad is such a hero of mine,” Polly gushed. “You look just like him! I bet you’re going to be an awesome Quidditch player too.”

“Yes, that’s me,” Albus replied half-heartedly, giving up on his cold breakfast and putting his fork back down on the table.

Shyly, Polly bit her lip and leaned in towards him, “Would it be… is it possible… could you get his autograph for me? I have his biography.”

“No!” Albus replied, more forcefully that he meant.

“Oh,” her face became crestfallen and she pouted. Then she looked across at Scorpius and she nearly fell backwards off her seat in order to get away from him. Her face had turned ashen. Scorpius sighed. Here was someone else who thought he was the son of the greatest Dark Wizard of all time.

“We better go,” Rose said to Polly and helped her off her seat and to her feet. “Bye Albus.”

Albus grunted in reply and Scorpius stared after them, idly chewing a tail of a Jelly Slug. “Rose almost said hello to me.”

“She ignored you, Scorpius.”

“It’s a start.”

“You’re delusional.”

Classes had been tough for the new first year students at Hogwarts and horrible for Albus with his woeful spell work. The harder he tried the worse he got with nerves and the expectations of being a Potter. Unfortunately, it was so bad that even the students that had come from Muggle families who had no wizarding knowledge before attending Hogwarts noticed Albus’ inability to cast the simplest of spells.

Luckily during Potions Albus had Scorpius to lean on. Scorpius had inherited his father’s natural talent and had an instinctive knack for brewing. Albus and Scorpius had shared a cauldron and their Cure for Boils was almost perfect the first time around that Professor Richmond could only find fault with the solution that it wasn’t quite the right shade of blue.

By the time the Slytherins walked into Greenhouse One for Herbology with the Ravenclaws on Thursday morning, Albus was feeling thoroughly depressed and angry. Somehow his lack of magical skill had spread around the school and it wasn’t uncommon that passing students would shout some insult at him in between lessons, or in the Great Hall over lunch. Scorpius had not been spared the other students’ teasing either. The “son of Voldemort” rumour had taken a strong hold around the castle and his usual joyful temperament had deflated with each passing comment.

Having endured similar treatment during his first year at Hogwarts, Professor Longbottom shared some empathy with his godson’s situation. Neville had been the classmate of both Albus’ and Scorpius’ fathers. And during his final year, when Voldemort and the Death Eaters had taken over the school Neville had been one of the students that had openly defied the new regime. He was a tall man with round friendly face that had slimmed a little in his later years and bore a few scars from the Wizarding War.

“It will get better,” he said to Albus, while the rest of the class were harvesting Puffapods. He’d set a task that the students would make a lot of noise during so he could speak to Albus privately without causing any further embarrassment for him.

“Will it?” Albus asked forlornly, roughly stuffing a Puffapod seed into a pot full of dirt.

“I had bully trouble,” Neville said quietly, keeping his voice down so nearby students wouldn’t hear. Before continuing, he hazarded a glance in Scorpius’ direction. The bully in question had been his father, Draco Malfoy. “And your Uncle Ron said I should stand up to myself not let him walk all over me. It was tough and I endured five years of it, but I had friends that helped me get through it.”

Albus groaned. “Does it ever stop? I don’t know if I can handle five years.”

Neville sat himself down between Albus and Scorpius, leaning against the large repotting table. “Look, to me and most of the Gryffindors, well actually to anyone who wasn’t in Slytherin, Malfoy was absolutely vile. He picked on us to make himself feel better. He would niggle and niggle and niggle until it became too much to handle. I did punch him once, but it still didn’t stop him. The best thing to do was just ignore it. When you react it’s exactly what they want, so they keep going at you.” Neville looked over to Scorpius, who now was pretending not to listen. But the fact that he was trowelling the top of the table and not in pot of dirt he was supposed to be, proved he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Sorry Scorpius, I know you don’t want to hear about that,” Neville said to him, and Scorpius waved the apology away.

“It’s okay. I know,” he said, “but at least you believe he actually is my father.”

Neville laughed kindly. “If you’re not Draco’s son, I will eat the Sorting Hat. With your looks, you are a Malfoy through and through, with one big difference, you smile more than your father.”

Embarrassed, Scorpius rubbed his slightly reddened cheek.

“Draco may have been the bane of my life at school, but he changed. I see that in you,” Neville continued and then smiled in disbelief. “Draco Malfoy, renouncing pure-blood supremacy, I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Feeling better for the first time in days, Scorpius bounced a little on his toes.

“Thanks Neville, I mean Professor Longbottom,” Albus said, happy to see his friend happier too.

“Any time, Albus,” Neville said, and wandered off to supervise the other students’ progress.

On Friday afternoon, with classes finished for the week, Albus invited Scorpius down to Hagrid’s for afternoon tea. As the two boys walked into the little wooden hut, Scorpius looked around with curiosity. A small enthusiastic puppy with brown and white fur ran up to him and began yapping. Not used to animals beyond his family’s owl and aloof peacocks, Scorpius backed away.

“She won’t bite,” Hagrid said gruffly and called the dog off. “Down Frankey, down.”

Feeling brave, Scorpius put a hand down towards Frankey. The puppy promptly licked him and Scorpius giggled. The dog then dropped to the floor and rolled over onto her back, wiggling against the hearth rug. Grinning Scorpius sat on the floor to play. Frankey brought him a toy and they had a game of tug of war, both puppy and Scorpius squeaking in surprise when the toy somehow ended up in their possession. Hagrid watched this interaction between his puppy and Draco Malfoy’s son, furrowing his brow in confusion. Albus climbed up onto Hagrid’s large arm chair, his feet dangling in the air.

“Had a good week?” Hagrid asked, handing Albus a full cup of tea and a couple of his rock cakes.

“No,” Albus replied truthfully, having been warned by his father that Hagrid’s cooking was an acquired taste and best to avoid the rock cakes if you wanted to keep all your teeth.

“I’ve heard some of the other kids talking. Best to ignore them,” Hagrid offered.

“That’s what Neville said.”

“Smart man, that one,” Hagrid said. “Did he tell you about when You Know Who took over the school?”

Albus shook his head and Scorpius looked up from the floor. Realising the tug of war was going to finish, Frankey flopped into Scorpius’ lap for a cuddle. Without any need for further encouragement Hagrid was off, telling the stories of brave Neville Longbottom who defied the Death Eaters.


	4. Squibs and the Darkness

Ignoring the comments worked for the most part for Albus and Scorpius, until their first Flying class. It was another class they had to share with the Gryffindors. No matter how hard Albus tried, the broom just would not rise off the ground. It didn’t even wiggle on the ground. Most of the students managed to catch the broom on their first go, even Scorpius’ and Rose’s brooms jumped up into their hands on the second try, leaving Albus’ the only one on the ground after ten minutes of trying. Hoping that nobody was looking, he quickly bent down and picked his broom up, pretending it had flown up into his hand. Madam Hooch spied the deception and made him put the broom back down on the ground and try again. He went bright red with embarrassment. The Gryffindors, apart from Rose, laughed heartily at Albus’ shame.

“He’s not like his dad at all, is he?” he heard Polly Chapman say to Rose.

“Albus Potter, the Slytherin Squib!” yelled out Gryffindor Karl Jenkins. The chant of “Slytherin Squib” was taken up by all the other Gryffindors, aside from Rose, who was looking just as mortified as Albus.

“That’s enough, Mr Jenkins!” reprimanded Madam Hooch. Humiliated, Albus kicked the broom and stalked away.

“Ten points from Slytherin and that’s detention, Mr Potter!” called Madam Hooch to Albus’ retreating form. Scorpius looked back at his friend, torn between going after him and staying in class not wanting to get in trouble.

The instant flying class was over, Scorpius raced up to the castle to try and find Albus. Assuming he’d be in the dormitories, he ran down the staircase to the Slytherin corridor. Forgetting where exactly the hidden door panel was, he went along the stone wall murmuring the password until an opening appeared.

Albus was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Albus? Are you okay?” Scorpius asked quietly, hovering at the door.

“No,” he replied and moved onto his side, turning away from Scorpius. Leaving Albus to stew, Scorpius decided to go down to the Great Hall, wondering if Rose had arrived back from their combined Flying Class. There were a few students milling around the house tables, but no sign of Rose. Feeling a little dejected, he went up to the library to study. Without Albus he felt quite lonely, just how he felt growing up at Malfoy Manor. For the past two weeks they had been virtually inseparable and until now he hadn’t realised just how grateful he had been to Albus for staying to share his sweets on the train. After reading about all the exploits of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, Scorpius’ greatest wish was to go to Hogwarts and have adventures like Harry and his friends. Without Albus he wouldn’t have any friends at all.

Pulling out parchment, quill and his Transfiguration book, _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration_, Scorpius stared at the words, but not in the mood to doing any homework just at the moment. Instead he got up from his table and began searching the shelves for books he hadn’t read. The Malfoy Library was quite extensive, a product of several generations and housed thousands of books, almost as many as the Hogwarts library. He began down in the S section, looking for any of Rita Skeeter’s books. He knew they were trash and a lot of what she wrote was hearsay and conjecture, but Scorpius needed something frivolous to read to help get his mind off the upset Albus, squirrelled away down in the Slytherin dormitory.

Scanning the shelves, Scorpius frowned when he spotted a book he didn’t even know existed._ The Lestrange Squib_. There had been lots of secrets within the Lestrange family and there had been a lot written about them in the family library. But all that had happened years ago, and this book appeared to be quite new. Pulling it off the shelf and sitting down right in the middle of the stacks, he began to read.

_The Lestrange name is one synonymous with pure-blood and wizard supremacy. With generations of pure-blood witches and wizards in their family, it would be hard to believe that that proud and ancient family could produce a Squib. Yet new information has come to light that Rodolphus Lestrange and his pure-blood wife Bellatrix Black had a daughter, born at Malfoy Manor during the First Wizarding War and abandoned at a Muggle Orphanage... _

Malfoy Manor? Scorpius bit his lip. Surely that wasn’t true, although it could be a possibility as Bellatrix and his Grandmother Narcissa were sisters. He read on, moving to sit against the bookshelf. A couple of the books seemed to groan with his weight against them. According to this book, the anonymous author had found the secret daughter living in Wales who had had sparing contact with her birth mother in the form of gold being sent to her adoptive parents for her upbringing.

It was an interesting read, although the more he read the less Scorpius believed. He knew the kind of Dark Witches and Wizards in his family and their pure-blood fanaticism, that even if Great Aunt Bellatrix had a Squib daughter, she would have cut ties completely as this was the woman who disowned her own sister for marrying a Muggle-born. There would be no way the daughter in question would even know she had magical parents, let alone keep in contact with them. A horrible thought came to mind. It was more probable that a Squib in the Lestrange family would have been killed. He blinked away tears. He hated knowing there were people in his family that were capable of such evil.

Standing up, he didn’t put the book back on the shelf. Next time he went home he was going to show his father. He would know whether it was true or not. Collecting his untouched Transfiguration homework, Scorpius noticed that it was dark outside and hoped he hadn’t missed dinner.

The Great Hall was loud with the students’ dinner chat. They were discussing the events of the week, and to Scorpius’ dismay, even Albus’ outburst in Flying Class.

“Where’s the Squib?” asked Artair when Scorpius sat down at the Slytherin table to eat. “I thought you two were joined at the hip.”

“He’s not a Squib,” Scorpius argued, “Stop calling him that.” Immediately, a good hearty dinner appeared on his plate the moment he picked up the jug in front of him to pour himself a glass of Pumpkin Juice. He’d never had Pumpkin Juice at home, as his mother didn’t like it very much. And Scorpius had discovered a distaste for it as well, but drank it anyway.

“He can barely hold his wand the right way around,” countered Forest with an unkind chuckle.

“He just had a bad day, that’s all,” Scorpius replied. Both Artair and Forest laughed.

“Everyone knows he’s worst in the class.”

“Maybe if you two stopped going on about it. We get enough from the Gryffindors without our own house mates adding to it,” Scorpius chided and contemplated throwing a Hex across the table at Artair, but stopped himself pulling out his wand by reminding himself of his family’s reputation for Dark magic and maltreatment of others. Something must have shown on his face because Forest and Artair stopped chuckling and finished up their own meals, both giving Scorpius a sideways glance as they ate, concerned he might turn them into beetles or something even more horrible.

Every now and then Scorpius would glance up towards the Great Hall’s large oak doors with the hope that Albus would walk through them. But when the empty pudding bowls were whisked away, Scorpius knew Albus wasn’t coming. He grabbed his bag and made his way out into the Entrance Hall. Instead of heading down to the Slytherin Dungeon, he took a detour towards the Hufflepuff basement. It was a lot warmer in this underground corridor and the light was golden instead of green. He stopped in front of a painting of a large fruit bowl and reached out to tickle the pear. With a giggle, the painting swung forward to reveal the Hogwarts kitchens. Scorpius had known what to do from the many books written about Hogwarts and luckily the trick had not been changed.

What looked like a hundred House-Elves were busily clearing up, washing dishes and putting away the clean pots and pans. They were very similar to his own family’s House-Elf, Merry; small, with bat-like ears and large expressive eyes. They all wore Hogwarts branded tea-towels, unlike Merry who wore a pillowslip embroidered with the Malfoy coat of arms. Scorpius hesitantly announced his presence with a soft cough. Two nearby Elves hurried over towards him.

“Can we help you, Sir?” they asked in unison, in squeaky voices.

“Um, could I get a plate of food for my friend, please? He was ill and missed dinner.”

Almost immediately a golden plate, heavy with the evening meal was placed in his hand and then the Elves went back to their chores.

“Thank you,” Scorpius smiled and hurried away to the Slytherin Common Room. He snuck in through the hidden panel, keeping a low profile, not wanting to be seen with the food and scampered to the first-year dorm. Albus was still there, lying on the bed. He looked over to who had just come into the room and sat up.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised the instant he recognised the white-blond hair.

“It’s okay.” Scorpius replied, then produced the plate of food with a flourish and smiled, relieved Albus’ bad mood was over. “Ta dah!”

“You are awesome,” Albus grinned, “I’m starving.” And he began to eat. He shuffled back to let Scorpius sit on the end of his bed.

“You should probably apologise to Madam Hooch for storming out of class,” Scorpius suggested tentatively.

“I’m not going back there,” Albus replied through his mouthful. He swallowed. “That was the most humiliating thing ever.” Scorpius opened his mouth, but Albus interrupted before he could get anything out. “And don’t say it will get better, it won’t, okay?”

Scorpius didn’t know what to say, so just nodded in support. He knew Albus could do it if he put his mind to it and if the Gryffindors weren’t so horrible. He had a thought that would hopefully cheer his friend up.

“I was thinking of going home one weekend in October,” Scorpius began, the book he had found in the library on his mind. “Would you like to come?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Of course. I’ll write to Mum and ask. I’m sure she won’t say no.”

With a visit to Malfoy Manor on the cards, Albus found the next few weeks a little easier to handle. He had served an evening’s detention with Madam Hooch, which turned out to be an additional lesson in the basics of broom husbandry. Without the jeers of the Gryffindors, Albus managed to command the broom into his hand and do a slow and low lap around the castle lawns.

He ran back into the Slytherin Common Room, anxiously looking for Scorpius to tell him of his achievement.

“I did it!” Albus said excitedly, finding Scorpius sitting in on a sofa in one of far corners in the Common Room, reading through the Lestrange book again.

“Awesome!” Scorpius enthused and put his book down. He then looked at Albus in confusion, “What did you do?”

“Flying,” Albus said softly with a bright grin. “I actually flew. On a broom. I could do it.” He bounced down onto the other end of the sofa. He sighed happily, the first time he felt content in weeks. He wouldn’t have to put up with James’ teasing about his lack of flying prowess anymore.

“I knew you could,” Scorpius said and then pulled a letter out of the back of his book. “This came for you. Tawny owl.”

Albus took the letter, knowing it would be from his parents. He’d written to tell them that he would be visiting Malfoy Manor for the weekend. His good mood was punctured from the opening line. 

_Al, we trust you, however do remember that the Malfoys were heavily involved in the Dark Arts. We worry about you and worry about the type of friends you are associating with at school. We’re not going to forbid you from going, but do just think about it. We love you and care about your safety. Love Mum and Dad xx_

Angrily, Albus screwed up the letter and threw it at the wall.

“Ugh! They don’t even know you. If they did, they wouldn’t be saying things like that!”

Scorpius bit his lip. “They won’t let you come?”

“It’s not that,” Albus said, shaking his head. “They basically said you’re evil and I shouldn’t be going, but it’s up to me.” He threw he head back against the couch. “And I was having such a good evening. Something always has to ruin it.”

“I understand why your parents don’t want you being friends with me,” Scorpius said softly. He showed Albus the book he had been reading. “This is about my Great Aunt Bellatrix. Most of it’s rubbish, but it’s in black and white just what the rest of the wizarding world thinks of her, how Dark she was.”

“But you said it yourself when I get Sorted into Slytherin that everything isn’t black and white. There isn’t just good and evil in the world. Even Neville said as much,” Albus said, then he perked up with an idea. “I could get Neville to send an owl to Mum and Dad. He’ll tell them you’re not a Dark wizard.”

“I don’t know,” began Scorpius.

“Come on. If we go now, we can get back before curfew,” Albus said excitedly. He picked up the discarded letter and they both ran out of the Common Room.

It was Madam Longbottom, the Hospital trainee, who answered Albus’ insistent knock. She was a friendly looking woman, who smiled brightly at her young visitors.

“Hello!” she greeted them cheerfully, ushering her husband’s godson and his friend into the living quaters.

“Hi Hannah. How are you enjoying training under Madam Pomfrey?” Albus asked, knowing that this was her first year on the Hogwarts Staff.

“Quite fun actually. Less stress than the Leaky Cauldron, that’s for sure. I should have taken up Healing years ago,” she replied, “Now, what can I help you with?”

“I wanted to talk to Neville, is he about?” Albus asked.

“Sure. I’ll fetch him for you.” She gestured for them to take seat down on large comfy sofa to wait. Scorpius felt a little strange to be in a teacher’s private living space, however Albus didn’t seem bothered.

Neville appeared a few moments later and sat down on the nearby chair. “A little late for a visit, isn’t it, boys?”

Albus ignored the question and asked his own. “We, well I, was hoping you could do me a favour?”

“It is customary for godfathers to say yes to that question, however I am not stupid,” he grinned.

Albus smiled and then pulled out the screwed-up letter his parents had sent him. He handed it over to Neville. “This is what Mum and Dad think of my friend. You know Scorpius, you know he’s not Dark. Can you write to them to say he isn’t evil?”

Neville smoothed out the parchment and read. He raised an eyebrow, then handed the letter back.

“I’m sorry, Albus, but it’s really not my place,” Neville said. “I can’t tell your parents what to do.”

“Please? They think something horrible is going to happen if I go to Malfoy Manor,” Albus shifted forward on his seat, “You’re not just a teacher, you’re my godfather. They’ll listen to you.”

Neville let out a soft laugh. “I cannot change Harry Potter’s mind. You need to let him make up his own mind. Introduce him to Scorpius. It’s only natural for him to think the worst of the Malfoys, he had both Lucius and Draco on his back for years.”

Scorpius waved away the apology before Neville had a chance to say it.

Albus let out a heavy sigh. “I guess you’re right. Dad’s not going to take it well being told what to think. Thanks anyway.”

“I wasn’t much help,” Neville replied, “However if you don’t want to get detention from Professor Richmond for being out past curfew, you need to skedaddle right now.”

“Thanks Professor,” Scorpius echoed, and they hurried out, hoping not to meet anything or a particular poltergeist on the way back to Slytherin Dungeon to waylay them and get them into trouble.

“No harm in asking,” Scorpius said, when they were back in their dormitory. It had been a close thing. Ravenclaw Head of House, Professor Flitwick was on rounds duty, making sure no-one under third year was out in the corridors. Just as Flitwick had come down the marble staircase to the Entrance Hall, he had been distracted by the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, which gave Albus and Scorpius the opportunity to sprint across to the door down to the dungeons. Albus thought he saw Sir Nicholas wink at him just before he disappeared down the spiral staircase.

“Maybe my dad could say something to your dad.”

Albus shook his head, “I think that would just add fuel to the fire. He already doesn’t like your dad.”

“On the plus side, he’s not going to stop you coming to visit,” Scorpius said. “Mum wrote to Professor McGonagall, she’s organising a portkey for us on Friday. I hate travelling by Floo Powder, it’s way too dirty.”


	5. Autumn at Malfoy Manor

Friday afternoon, after a boring class of Charms where the first year Slytherins had been revising out of their textbooks, no magic, Albus and Scorpius were in the Headmistress’ office, waiting for their Portkey to Malfoy Manor.

Albus looked around the circular office, gazing up at the sleeping portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses. In his father’s time, this was Dumbledore’s office, filled with strange whirring gadgets and magical devices. He searched for Dumbledore’s portrait amongst the gallery and found the large gold frame empty. His eyes landed on another portrait of a former Headmaster, the other for whom he was named. Severus Snape. The sallow faced man with a hook nose was standing aloof, looking down with disdain at the occupants of the office.

“In trouble, Potter?” Snape said in a haughty voice.

Albus was taken aback, “You, you know who I am?” Scorpius wandered over to see who Albus was talking to.

“You look remarkably like your father,” he sniffed and crossed his arms over his chest, his dark robes appearing to fold up like bat wings.

“Yeah, so everyone says,” Albus said flatly and wandered away from the portrait.

Just then Professor McGonagall bustled into the office, looking harassed. “That poltergeist!” she exclaimed, brushing what looked like chalk dust off her shoulders. She aimed her wand at her robes and the dust and debris siphoned away, leaving the tartan pristine once more. She spotted Albus and Scorpius standing by her desk. “Ah. Ready Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter?”

Scorpius smiled brightly, “Yes Professor.” And Albus noticed out of the corner of his eye Snape looking mildly curious about the goings on. He had turned towards them, his disinterest diminishing.

Professor McGonagall picked up a small silver cauldron and cast a spell over it, it glowed bright blue. “Now, this will return Sunday at 6 o’clock. Don’t miss it or it will be detention,” she said with the hint of a smile.

Both Albus and Scorpius nodded in agreement and held onto the cauldron. After a few moments there was a pull at their stomachs and they were squeezed tightly through space, whirling whirling until gracelessly they landed in a heap on the floor of the Entrance Hall of Malfoy Manor.

“Good afternoon,” drawled the low voice of Draco Malfoy. Standing to meet them, a tall wizard in neat charcoal robes, Draco was an older version of his son, with a pale pointed face and grey eyes, except that his white-blond hair was long and pulled back into a very neat ponytail. Also unlike Scorpius, his face was more serious and he looked like a wizard you didn’t want to be on the wrong side of.

“Dad!” Scorpius exclaimed and clumsily got to his feet, brushing the dust off his knees. “This is Albus.”

Nervously, Albus stood up as well and took the proffered hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Malfoy,” he said politely.

“Draco. _Mr Malfoy_ makes me sound old.”

“You are old, Dad,” Scorpius quipped.

“Cheeky,” Draco said, turning his pale eyes to his son, a slight smile at the corners of his mouth. “Go see your mother. She’s in the drawing room, she’s anxious to see you.”

“This way,” Scorpius said to Albus, beckoning him to follow and leaving their bags behind. In amazement, Albus glanced around the hall they were walking through. It did indeed look like a larger, less green and grander version of the Slytherin Common Room. Large glass windows looked out onto vast ornamental gardens; torch brackets were alight, giving the stone hall a warm golden glow. Scorpius led Albus up an imposing stone staircase that opened up onto a vast drawing room. The walls were lined in rich dark timber panels and large portraits. An enormous stone fireplace dominated the room, with flames dancing merrily under the ornate mantelpiece. His mouth hanging half open, Albus was stunned by the scale of Malfoy Manor. His own family wasn’t poor and the Potter’s house wasn’t small, but never before had he been in a private home that was so grand.

Oblivious to Albus’ astonishment, Scorpius hurried over to one of the large plush wingback chairs that sat beside the hearth.

“Mum!” Scorpius exclaimed and tightly hugged his mother. Astoria Malfoy was a very thin and frail woman. With some effort, she slowly wrapped her arms around her son and kissed the top of his head.

Awkwardly Albus hung back, marvelling at what appeared to be a decorative pipe organ at the end of the room. He only knew what it was having visited a Muggle cathedral with his parents when they had a day out in London when he was younger.

“This is Albus,” Scorpius introduced and Albus hurried over.

“Hello,” he said and Astoria smiled wanly. Her eyes were hooded and his lips were pale, almost the same colour as her pasty skin. She appeared very ill.

“You do look like your father,” she said softly and added off Albus’ expression, “I’m sure you’re sick of people saying that.”

“Just a little,” Albus replied with a friendly smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Albus. Scorpius talks about you all the time. I’m glad he’s found a good friend,” Astoria said in hesitant sentences, and Scorpius blushed, looking at the floor. She slowly turned her head to face her son, as though even the effort to do that was sapping all her energy. “Show Albus up to the guest room. It’s all ready for him. Dinner is at seven.”

Scorpius gave his mother a gentle kiss on the cheek and indicated Albus to follow him again. They walked up the stone staircase once more to take them to the top floor.

“You mum…” Albus started to ask when they were out of her earshot, not wanting to sound too nosy.

“A blood malediction. One of her ancestors was cursed and it showed up in her. Some days she is fine, other days she is like that,” Scorpius’ voice was flat, reeling off the information in a direct manner to keep his emotions in check.

“I’m sorry,” Albus murmured. They reached the top of the stairs and walked into a long portrait gallery. Gold frames glinted against dark patterned wallpaper. Generations of Malfoys glared down at him, all with cold grey eyes and white blond hair. Halfway along the gallery a loud voice boomed down at them, both Albus and Scorpius jumped in fright.

“Who are you?” The question was directed at Albus from a large man in black elaborate robes, sitting in an ornately carved chair that appeared to be more like a throne, with two gigantic hunting dogs, one sitting on either side of him. The name plaque on the bottom of the gilt frame told Albus this man was Abraxas Malfoy.

“Great Grandfather, he’s my friend Albus.” Scorpius said in a timid voice.

“Pure-blood?” the man demanded, rising from his seat to appear more intimidating. One of the dogs snarled, baring his fangs and beginning to salivate.

“Half,” Albus replied quickly, taking a step away from the growling dog. He knew the dog wouldn’t be able to move beyond the frame, but it was still rather frightening. Abraxas sniffed in derision and settled back down on the black velvet chair.

“It’s the Potter brat!” screamed another portrait from further along the gallery. “I recognise him!” It was a very attractive woman with a mass of black hair, her eyes wide with anger. She tried to claw her way out of the painting. “He killed my Master! I will kill him!”

There were murmurings from the surrounding paintings and a louder voice to calm the screaming woman. “Quiet Bella! It cannot be Harry Potter. He is older than this boy.”

The screaming woman quietened somewhat, but her eyes still held a savage mania. Not wanting to be screamed at by any of the other portraits, Scorpius grabbed Albus by the lapel and they raced the length of the gallery and into the sanctuary of Scorpius’ bedroom.

Panting, Albus put a hand on his chest. His heart was hammering and not from the quick sprint. “Who was that?”

“Great Aunt Bellatrix. Grandmother’s sister,” Scorpius breathed out. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea that would happen.” He sat up on his canopy bed. It was four times as large as the beds in the Slytherin Dormitory and the curtains were a luxurious patterned dark antique gold, draped in swags under the upholstered canopy overhead. Albus had heard of Bellatrix Lestrange from his parents, she had been one of Voldemort’s loyal followers. And totally crackpot insane, according to his mum. She had been killed at the Battle of Hogwarts by his Granny Weasley. A piece of information Albus decided he wouldn’t voice in this house.

Albus climbed up on the bed beside his friend. The rest of the room was painted in a rich dark blue with white decorative mouldings. There was a fireplace in this room as well, nowhere as large as the one in the drawing room, but with the Malfoy family crest pressed into the plasterwork over the mantle.

“Your room is next door. Mum and Dad sleep down the other end of the Gallery. We can go down the back stairs to avoid it,” Scorpius smiled, hoping this experience hadn’t turned Albus off from being his friend. Having grown up here, he’d forgotten just how many remnants of his family’s Dark wizarding past were still in the house. And there were more things than just portraits. The portrait of Bellatrix could still be heard echoing down the Long Gallery until Draco’s low commanding voice told her to shut up and threatened her with curtains.

“Would you like the tour? It might take a while.” Scorpius grinned.

It took them the rest of the afternoon to walk around the Manor, the tour finishing in Scorpius’ favourite room, the Library. Not only were there what appeared to be thousands of books lining the walls, there were also many display cases showing the immense collection of Dark magical artefacts that had been acquired by his Grandfather Lucius.

“I’m not allowed to touch any of these,” Scorpius said, peering into one of the glass cases. On a velvet cushion sat a withered old hand with gnarled skin and splintered nails. “This is Dad’s. It’s a Hand of Glory.”

Albus peered into the case and screwed up his nose. On trips to Diagon Alley, he had never been allowed to go down Knockturn Alley, no matter how much he wanted to, but he imagined that many of these artefacts would be quite at home there. Scorpius saw the look on his friend’s face.

“I know,” he said shrewdly and then he shrugged, “But this is what I grew up with. And the reason your parents didn’t want you to come here.” He slumped over to a nearby sofa and flopped face first down onto the cushions.

Albus patted him on the head and sat on the sofa arm. “I know you’re not Dark,” he said.

“Everyone else thinks I am,” came Scorpius’ muffled voice.

“I’ll do you a swap. I’ll live here and you can go live with James,” Albus offered. Scorpius flipped over onto his back and looked up at Albus sitting over him.

“No thanks,” he said. “You think Rose would talk to me if I wasn’t the son of a former Death Eater?”

“You’re fighting a losing battle. Uncle Ron would never allow it,” replied Albus.

Scorpius sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. “Why do we have to deal with what our parents did to one another? Your dad didn’t want you coming here because he doesn’t like my dad. We are not our fathers.”

“Try telling the rest of the Hogwarts population that.” Albus sighed and slumped down on the sofa next to Scorpius. He looked across the library to another glass cabinet. In it was a beautiful green opal necklace. Albus got up to get a closer look.

“Don’t touch that!” Scorpius exclaimed and reached out to grab Albus’s arm. “It’s cursed. Seriously don’t go near it.”

Albus was about to ask why there was a cursed necklace in their library, and then remembered where he was. But Scorpius answered for him.

“Dad said that if we own the Dark artefacts and keep them locked away then they can’t hurt anyone, anymore.”

“Anymore? That necklace has hurt people in the past?”

Scorpius looked distraught and nodded. “Maybe we should go down to dinner. It’s nearly seven.”

The long dinner table was already set as Albus and Scorpius sat down next to each other in high backed chairs. Two large candelabras sat on the table and the candles flickered into life. Moments later Draco strode in taking his place at the head of the table. Noticing that only three places had been set for dinner, Scorpius asked, “Mum isn’t joining us?”

“No, she’s feeling too ill. She’ll be better in the morning,” his father replied. A carafe of wine floated its way to the table and poured out into Draco’s glass. Just like at Hogwarts, steaming dishes of meats and vegetables appeared in front of them. It smelt glorious and Albus’ stomach rumbled loudly.

“Visitors first,” Draco offered as light cordials from a pitcher filled up the boys’ glasses.

“Thank you,” Albus said courteously and piled his plate as high as was polite with the delicious smelling food.

“Dad,” Scorpius began once they were all eating. “I found this in the Hogwarts Library.” He pulled out the book about Bellatrix Lestrange and placed it on the table.

“What’s this?” Draco put down his knife and fork, and picked the book up to examine it. He frowned at the title. “_The Lestrange Squib_? Who wrote this?”

“I don’t know. It’s anonymous, but I found it next to the Rita Skeeter books,” Scorpius answered, then bit his lip, “Do you think it’s true?”

Sitting back in his chair, Draco opened it to the first page and quickly scanned the introduction and then he began to laugh. “I doubt it. Just some rumour. I’d never heard of it and we’ve had some absolutely ridiculous rumours spread about this family.” He gave Scorpius a comforting smile and Albus knew he was referring to the one about Lord Voldemort.

“Besides,” he continued and laid the book back down on the table, “If Aunt Bella gave birth to a Squib, I doubt the child would have been allowed to live.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” Scorpius agreed in a quiet reluctant voice. 

At this casual observation of the murder of a child, Albus froze with his laden fork halfway to his mouth. It slipped from his grasp and it loudly clattered on his plate, splattering the linen table cloth with gravy.

“Apologies Albus. You’ve seen the kind of pure-blood fanaticism that seeps through this house,” Draco said, referring to the inquisition about Albus’ blood-status from the Portrait Gallery.

“I shouldn’t be surprised though. I know she murdered Dad’s godfather, her own cousin,” Albus said, quietly, cleaning a gravy spot off his shirt. “I’m not used to people talking about it so openly. Mum and Dad never talk much about the Dark side of magic, except that it has to be defeated.”

“Unfortunately, when you grow up in this house, Darkness and pure-blood supremacy is all you know,” Draco replied honestly. “We’re trying to change that.” He gave Scorpius another smile. Albus thought he felt the air grow suddenly icy cold, as though the house wasn’t very happy with what it had just heard. There was definitely the sound of clinking armour, echoing in from the hallway. 

“Mum and Dad didn’t want me to come here,” Albus confessed.

“I can understand why. But we’re not as evil as Harry would like to think. I know I gave him a rough time at school, but he gave as good as he got,” Draco said with a smile. “And he always beat me at Quiddtich, the annoying git.”

Albus laughed and then covered his mouth, thinking it was rather wrong to laugh at his father being called a git. The rest of the dinner rubbed along in a happier mood once the talk of families had ceased, yet it made a nose dive when during dessert Draco asked how Albus was enjoying Hogwarts.

Slumping, Albus idly played with his spoon, his delicious lemon tart no longer seeming appetising. “I’m not,” he said. “I suck at everything.”

“You do not,” countered Scorpius, “You’re good at Potions. And Professor Longbottom said you’re one of the top students in Herbology.”

“I’m only good at Potions because of you,” Albus sighed. “There’s a reason the Gryffindors call me the Slytherin Squib.” He really wanted to finish the tart, it was too nice to waste, so he took an unenthusiastic bite, allowing it to melt on his tongue. It really was very good indeed.

“Professor Longbottom said to ignore it, don’t let it get to you,” Scorpius said.

“Good advice,” agreed Draco. He had already finished his dessert and was sitting back in his chair with his legs crossed and swirling a glass of wine in his hand. “Confidence is the key.”

Albus looked at the man at the end of the table. Everything about him exuded confidence, from his posture, to his immaculate robes and hair, and even the way he drank his wine. Scorpius in his own geeky way showed more confidence in his own abilities than Albus could ever muster in himself. He thought of James. He wished he could be more like this brother, not as annoying of course, but having that self-assured swagger. His parents, his sister, his cousins all had it too. Was that why he had been put into Slytherin, because the Sorting Hat could recognise that he was the black sheep of the family? Another thought formed. He wondered whether deep down he didn’t actually want to be put in Gryffindor, to prove that even though he shared looks and a surname that he was different from his father.

“Albus?”

Shaking his head, Albus turned to Scorpius who had spoken his name. “Sorry?”

“I said, would you like a game of Wizard’s Chess?” Obviously during his contemplation, the conversation and dinner had moved on. The plates and empty dishes had been cleared from the table.

“Sure,” Albus replied and the two boys excused themselves from the table and went off to the Games Salon. Albus was happy to see there were no portraits in this room even though it was quite large. Similar to the drawing room the walls were of a rich dark timber and there were soft chairs arranged around small tables. However in the middle of the room was large table with solidly carved legs. It was way too big for a card table and strangely there were little pockets at each corner and at the centre of the longer sides. Pendant gas lamps overhead ignited, shining down onto the table top showing it was made of a royal purple fabric. Albus looked confused.

“What is that for?” he asked.

“It’s what Muggles call a Billiard Table,” Scorpius answered. “Would you like to play?”

“This is a Muggle game?” Albus asked in astonishment. From his short time at Malfoy Manor, he was surprised that anything Muggle-made would ever be allowed to grace these ancient, pure-blood halls.

Scorpius grinned. He placed a finger to his lips in a shh-ing gesture and winked.

Albus couldn’t believe that hitting balls on a table with sticks could be so fun. Scorpius had taught him the rules to one of the simple games he knew, but thirty minutes in the rules had been thrown out the window and they had descended into giggles while trying to get as many balls into the pockets as quickly as possible. Each time a ball was sunk it floated back onto the table to its original position.

“It’s a very old table,” Scorpius was saying, standing on one foot and leaning as far onto the table as he could to line up a shot. “Given to one of our ancestors before the Statute of Secrecy came into force. It’s been altered and enhanced over the years.” He pulled the cue back – Albus kept forgetting the proper name for it and just referred to them as sticks – the white ball careened into a red one, ricocheting onto the black, both going into opposite pockets at the far end.

“You are really good at that,” Albus said admiringly. He had had trouble even getting the white ball to hit a coloured one. Most times it shot off in the complete opposite direction to where he was aiming. Even if there was a spell that could help him, he thought that it would be cheating. Also he doubted he’d be able to cast it. 

Scorpius shrugged shyly, leaning on his stick, “I needed something to pass the time. There are only so many times I can re-read the books in the Library.”

It wasn’t until Draco came in a couple hours later to suggest it was time for bed that Albus and Scorpius realised how late it had become.

“But Daaaad,” Scorpius began to whine.

“Come on,” Draco insisted, with a wave of his wand, the balls on the table all collected themselves into a box and hid away in a compartment under the table. “You’ll have more time tomorrow.”

Reluctantly the boys allowed themselves to be chivvied out of the Games Salon and Scorpius took the lead to take them up to their bedrooms. He diverted through a hidden panel in one of the smaller salons to take a shortcut to the backstairs, the way to avoid the portraits in the Long Gallery.

As they ascended up to the top floor the torches and gas lamps extinguished behind them. In the shadows, Albus thought he saw something moving in the darkness. He heard that echoing clanking of armour once again and with a shiver he hurried up to walk beside Scorpius.

Horrible, withered hands crawled out of the shadows, creeping slowly along the bedcovers. Bright red blood dripped down from the canopy; the hideous corpse of a witch was suspended overhead. A flash of green light and the large picture window shattered into a thousand piercing shards. Lord Voldemort flew in, flanked on all sides by Malfoy ancestors and Bellatrix who was screeching in fury over the sounds of a crying baby. Blood gushed over the floor, like a breaking wave, consuming a carpet of multiplying mutilated bodies…

And Scorpius awoke with a gasp. He sat up in bed, heart thumping wildly in his chest. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and felt it was damp with sweat. It was a dream, just a dream. A nightmare. It had seemed all so real. He had felt the warm blood dripping onto his skin, the taste of the metallic tang in the air. His ears were still ringing from the sound of shattering glass. 

A cold draught rustled the curtains of his bed and played upon his damp skin. He shivered and hugged his knees tight to his chest. He didn’t want to move, in case it hadn’t been a dream, in case the Darkness was just beyond the sanctuary of his bed, coming for him.

Suddenly the curtains began to move and the morning sunlight flooded in. Scorpius gasped again and grabbed onto his pillow, squinting against the bright light. The friendly face of Albus peeked through gap in the curtains.

“I was checking if you were awake…” he began with a smile, then became concerned. “Are you all right? Has something happened?”

“I had a nightmare,” Scorpius whispered. “It was horrible.” It took all his strength not to burst out in tears.

Albus scrambled through the curtains and up onto the bed. He placed a hand on Scorpius’ knee. “It was just a dream. They’re not real,” he said kindly.

“Yeah, not real,” Scorpius replied quietly and looked away from Albus. Yet it some ways it had been real. It had all happened before he had been born. During the Second Wizarding War, Voldemort had used the Manor as his headquarters and the Malfoy family had been right there at his side. The Muggle Studies teacher had been abducted, suspended and tortured over the dinner table, then devoured by the snake when she no longer served a purpose, witnessed by his teenage father. A manic Bellatrix had tortured Muggle-borns, screaming for vengeance. Bodies of the slaughtered had littered the Drawing Room, the dark timber floor slippery with their blood.

They sat in silence, neither knowing what to do. A voice called out from beyond the closed curtains.

“Scorpius? Are you awake yet?”

“Yes Mum!” Scorpius replied, his fear over the nightmare diminishing when he heard his mother’s voice. The curtains pulled apart to reveal the two boys sitting at opposites ends of the bed. With wand in hand, the Astoria Malfoy standing at the bedside was a completely different person to the woman Albus had met the previous evening. Her face was fuller and her cheeks had a rosy tinge. Her eyes were bright and her long dark hair was shiny. Even though Scorpius was a miniature version of his father, Albus could see where he got his happy manner from. Albus couldn’t believe the change in her, from a frail thin creature to this happy, perfect picture of health.

“Good morning,” she said jovially and turned to Albus, “And I’m sorry. For last night.”

“It’s okay, Mrs Malfoy, I understand,” Albus said, shyly.

“Please, call me Astoria,” she said, waving her wand and the curtains on all sides of the bed flew apart, drawing themselves to the posts. “Breakfast is nearly ready.”

Scorpius leapt off the bed and tightly hugged his mother. She kissed his head. Albus averted his eyes at the display of affection. “Is everything okay, darling?”

“It is now,” he murmured against her.

After breakfast the two boys went out into the extensive grounds of Malfoy Manor at Scorpius’ suggestion. He didn’t want to stay inside the house any longer than he had to. It had taken all his strength not to think about that Professor who had been murdered where they now ate breakfast. They walked down the long front entrance avenue with its high hedges on both sides, to where the large wrought iron gates sat, barring entrance to all but those who were invited.

“I used to come down here nearly every day and hope that I would see someone walking past,” Scorpius said, looking out to the road beyond. “They never saw me though. The estate is unplottable and there are loads of protective and concealment charms.”

“This is an amazing place,” Albus said, turning to face the Manor house. High pitched rooves capped every turret, giving the house the appearance of wearing multiple party hats. “You must have explored every inch.”

“Pretty much,” Scorpius said. “We have flower gardens, herb gardens, poisons garden. Fountains and a little stream. Woods, groves, and a field big enough for Quidditch. And the Old Hall that our family lived in before the Manor was built.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Go back. A poisons garden?” Albus asked, sure he had misheard.

“Yeah, plants like belladonna, hemlock, foxglove. The usual. I’ll show you.” And they wandered back down the avenue and slipped through a gap in the hedge. The garden before them was beautiful, full of bright flowers in neat beds. If one didn’t know their plants, it would be hard to tell that these pretty things were all killers.

“They’re used in potions too,” Scorpius said, pointing over to a very bright purple flower, “That’s aconite used in the Wolfsbane Potion.”

“So this is why you’re so good at Potions,” Albus said.

Scorpius smiled proudly. “Dad taught me a few things. He said it was one of the few classes he actually enjoyed at Hogwarts.”

They spent the rest of the morning, wandering the formal gardens, with Scorpius showing off his general knowledge of plants both magical and non-magical, but it was in the Poisons Garden where he most informed. Albus enjoyed walking around the grounds, they were quiet and peaceful, something he couldn’t seem to find so readily at his own home.

“If I had to be hidden away somewhere, this is the place I’d chose,” Albus said. He had flopped down on the grass under a large chestnut tree. A small stick like creature scampered along one of the branches, then disappeared into a hole in the trunk. A slight gust of wind blew a few of the browning leaves causing them to flutter to the ground. Leaning against the tree trunk, Scorpius shivered, thinking back on his dream. He looked over to the house, dark and foreboding, half hidden behind the yew hedges.

Just when Albus was about to suggest they head back for lunch, his stomach had been rumbling for the past ten minutes, with a crack a House-elf wearing a neatly pressed pillowcase appeared carrying a basket.

“Merry has lunch for Master Scorpius and his friend,” the Elf announced in a high squeaky voice. She began to set out a picnic blanket on the ground and placed a large plate of triangular sandwiches in the centre of it.

Eagerly, Albus sat up and took the top sandwich off the pile, “Great service!” he enthused and the Elf bowed with a proud smile.

Scorpius crawled across the ground to join Albus on the blanket. “Thank you, Merry,” he said and with another low bow the elf disappeared back to the house.

“I wish we had a House-Elf,” Albus said thickly through a mouthful of food. “But Aunt Hermione would never visit if we did.”

Lunching in the autumn sunshine was very enjoyable. There was still warmth in the sun down south, compared to the chilly autumn days they had been experiencing at Hogwarts. Albus watched as a couple white peacocks stalked across the grounds.

“I don’t think I ever want to go back to Hogwarts. I could happily live here forever,” Albus said with a contented sigh.


	6. Fall into Winter

Sunday afternoon came around too quickly for Albus and before he knew it, he and Scorpius were on their way back to Hogwarts after saying goodbye to Mr and Mrs Malfoy. Scorpius was reluctant to leave his mother; he hugged her tight and it took Albus to remind him of the time and threat of detention if they missed the Portkey.

“Evening Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall greeted, without looking up from her writing when the Portkey had delivered the two boys into the middle of the Headmistress’ office.

“Your mum and dad are really nice,” Albus said as they made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner, a couple of the Gryffindor first-years raced down past them on the way.

“Hey Squib,” Karl Jenkins, the dark-haired boy, said casually in way of salutation.

“I didn’t miss this place,” Albus scowled and then gently nudged Scorpius in the ribs when he noticed his friend hadn’t been listening to him. “Hey, where are you?”

“What? I’m right here,” Scorpius replied. Misplacing his foot and skidding down a couple steps, he over balanced. He grabbed onto the balustrade for support with a squeak. There was a laugh from the Gryffindors who hurried off down the stairs. Albus helped Scorpius back upright.

“Albus?” It was Rose running up the stairs to meet him. Scorpius tripped down another two steps. Turning the slip into a sort of dance routine, pretending he meant it all along, he grinned at her. “Hi Rose.”

She gave him a contemptuous glance and spoke to Albus. “You’re back!”

“Yes, were you expecting me not to be?”

She looked sheepish. “No, I mean, I knew you’d be back, obviously. I was wondering how it was.”

“I didn’t turn into a Death Eater if that’s what Dad is worried about.” Albus continued on his way down the stairs.

“I haven’t been talking to Uncle Harry,” Rose called down to him. She looked at Scorpius who hadn’t moved. His brow furrowed, he began chewing his lip, looking blankly at a nearby portrait. She raised an eyebrow and then hurried down the stairs to catch up with her cousin. They walked into the Great Hall together.

“They’re worried, is all,” Rose continued and sat down next to Albus when he took his place at the Slytherin table.

“Um, Slytherin? You don’t eat here,” Albus said, gesturing to table in front of him and the other seated Slytherin students. He looked around, expecting to see Scorpius beside him, but he was wasn’t there.

“Like it’s going to matter. It’s not an official school feast,” Rose said and swivelled around to put her feet under the table. She tapped the golden plate in front of her and food appeared from the kitchen below. “I was curious about what Malfoy Manor is like. You know Mum and Dad and Uncle Harry were there during the Wizarding War, yeah? They were kept hostage.”

Albus blinked, paused with his hand halfway to pick up his goblet full of pumpkin juice. “I hadn’t thought of that.” His dad didn’t talk about that much, but Albus knew they had only escaped being held prisoner in the cellar because of Dobby the House-Elf, who had come to save them. Unsurprisingly the cellar hadn’t been on Scorpius’ tour of the house. He shook his head to remove the thought. “That was like twenty years ago.”

“Nineteen,” Rose corrected and Albus rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. It was ages ago. And Draco and Astoria were really nice to me.”

Rose leaned in conspiratorially, “That’s how they…” she stopped when she saw Scorpius coming down the table and taking his place on the other side of Albus.

Angrily, Albus turned to face his cousin. “That’s how they do what, Rose? Lure people to the Dark side?”

“No, I wasn’t going to say that,” she said and shoved a piece of bread in her mouth so she had the excuse not to talk.

“We’re having a family dinner? No one told me.” James had arrived in the Great Hall and saw Albus sitting with Rose. He joined them at the Slytherin table, sitting opposite Scorpius. A few minutes later, two of the older Weasley cousins walked in through the oak doors, heading over to the Gryffindor table, trailed by a third who was telling them to wait up. And when the eldest Weasley sashayed in through the great oak doors as if she was on a catwalk, James called them all over. 

“What is this? This is the _Slytherin_ table,” Albus said as all his cousins joined them. Although two years apart in age, Victoire and Dominique could have been twins. They both had long silvery hair inherited down through the generations from their French Veela great grandmother, but had faces full of freckles like their father. In comparison Molly and Lucy were as different as sisters could be. The only similarities were their flaming red Weasley hair. Molly was short and wore her hair in two long perfect braids that went down to her waist. She also wore glasses and a shiny prefect badge on her chest. The younger, Lucy, was taller and thinner than her sister, and her hair was short and choppy and always a mess.

“You’re family, Al,” said Victoire kindly, “We don’t mind what house you’re in.” As the plates filled in front of them, she was the first of the Potter and Weasley Gryffindors to notice that Scorpius was sitting with them. “Who are you?”

Before Scorpius managed to answer, James did it for him. “Voldemort’s son,” he said with a grin.

“Scorpius Malfoy,” Scorpius said quietly, trying to ignore James’ laughing.

Something clicked in Victoire’s mind and she said excitedly, “Ohh, you’re Teddy’s cousin – “

“Her _boy_friend,” Dominique sang and Victoire poked her in the leg for interrupting.

“ – His grandmother is Andromeda Black. You’re almost family too! I don’t think Granny Tonks speaks much of her family, but Teddy did say once she said she missed her sister. Um, Narcissa, was it?”

“That’s _my_ grandmother!” Scorpius beamed to be included. Apparently not all of Albus’ relations thought of him as something to be laughed at or wary of.

“The Weasleys married into the Blacks a few generations back,” Rose offered, not out of confirmation for Scorpius’ benefit, but like her mother she was just so used to giving up any pertinent information she had retained.

“Yeah but the Blacks are insane,” James said.

“You’re named after one!”

“He wasn’t evil.”

“He was in Azkaban for twelve years.”

“But he was innocent!”

Albus leaned in close to Scorpius and whispered, “See what I have to put up with? This is why I liked your house. Quiet and no relatives.” But Scorpius wasn’t really listening, instead was enjoying the lively conversation. It was something he’d never been a part of before.

While his brother and cousins chatted and laughed over dinner, a few Slytherins gave them death stares for sitting at their table, Albus grew sulkier and sulkier. This was how most family get togethers were in the Potter/Weasley family, everyone talking over each other with Albus sitting quietly, trying to ignore the teasing from his brother. Even Scorpius seemed to be more involved in his family conversation than he ever was.

Having finished his food, he bumped Scorpius to tell him he was going to bed. Torn between being included and supporting his friend, Scorpius got up from the table too.

“Where are you going?” James asked, when he noticed the two Slytherins in their party extricating themselves from the long bench they were sitting on.

“Bed,” Albus said. “You all just carry on.” He and Scorpius left the Great Hall, Scorpius giving the family gathering a wistful look over his shoulder.

“Sorry about them,” Albus said once they arrived back in the Slytherin Dungeon. “They can be overbearing.”

“I didn’t mind,” Scorpius replied, “It would have been nice to have cousins growing up.”

“Have some of mine, I’m sure one or two won’t be missed.” Albus sighed heavily. “Well, I’d better write to Mum and Dad to tell them your dad didn’t turn me into a Death Eater.” He trudged off to the Dormitory to fetch a quill and parchment.

******

The warm autumn faded quickly into a cold winter and snow started to fall early. The Quidditch season had begun with Slytherin’s spectacular loss to Hufflepuff, by 380 points. Scorpius and Albus, with their faces buried in their scarves walked back up to the castle from the Quidditch pitch through the bitter cold wind.

“If all of Slytherin’s matches are going to be like that, I’m not going to bother to watch,” Albus complained.

“I thought you liked Quidditch,” Scorpius said. He pulled his hood up over his head and crossed his arms across his chest to keep warm. Having lived his entire life down in the moderate south, he wasn’t used to the chilly weather. The window gusted and blew a flurry of snow up into their faces.

“I’m starting to lose interest if I’m honest.” Five Hufflepuff students ran past them, whooping, cheering and singing at the top of their voices.

“I’m frozen,” Scorpius shivered. “I need hot chocolate, right now. Maybe we could visit Hagrid?”

Albus looked over to the little hut sitting at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He’d been avoiding Hagrid, making up excuses when he asked him to Friday afternoon tea. He knew that they would just end up talking about classes and how rubbish he was. Or they would talk about his dad and Albus wasn’t sure he could handle that right now.

“Come on,” Scorpius said and grabbed onto Albus’ arm to pull him toward Hagrid’s. “It’ll be toasty and warm.”

Reluctantly Albus went with Scorpius and knocked on Hagrid’s door. They knocked again and called through the door, but there was no answer. They waited for a further five minutes in the growing snow before giving up.

“I wonder where he is,” Scorpius mused, Albus was silently grateful for his absence.

“No idea.”

Walking in through the front doors of the castle, Albus stamped the snow off his boots and shook it from his hair and shoulders. A gaggle of third years scurried past, each calling out to Albus, like he was in some sort of strange echo-chamber.

“Hey Squib!”

“Hey Squib!”

“Hey Squib!”

“That is so not getting old at all,” Albus murmured. His spell work had not improved over the months which had only served the nickname of the ‘Slytherin Squib’ to spread around the school.

“Hey Voldy!”

Scorpius had not fared any better either. Whether the students actually believed the rumour or not, that still didn’t stop the ‘child of Voldemort’ accusations, but as long as Albus was there to stick up for him, he found the teasing easier to ignore.

Crossing the Entrance Hall, while Albus headed for the Slytherin staircase, Scorpius went towards the Hufflepuff basement.

“Where are you going?” Albus asked.

“Hot chocolate.” Scorpius replied matter-of-factly, then added dramatically, “For I am Scorpius the Chilled.”

“Oh!” And Albus hurried over to join his friend in going down to the kitchens.

“Mind like a sieve, you have.”

Finding sanctuary in the kitchens with the House-Elves was the only place in the castle where the two boys weren’t teased or bullied. Even in passing the comments were wearing. They were welcomed warmly by the House-Elves who showed them to spot they had set up near the fireplace for the boys to sit. They were brought hot chocolate and a piece of cake of share.

“Thank you,” Scorpius said. “I do wish we could do something for you in return. For letting us hide away in here.”

“Serving you is the House-Elves’ honour, Sirs” squeaked one the elves, whose name they had found out was Slinky. She was always keen to welcome the kind Malfoy boy into the kitchen, having known the current Malfoy House-elf Merry from their early days in the House-Elf Placement Agency. Over the years, when the two elves had the chance to meet again, Merry had always spoken highly of young Scorpius.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” asked Scorpius, wrapping his cold fingers around the warm mug of chocolate and huddled closer to the kitchen fire. Being so close to the holidays and seeing the snow falling so early in the year, all students’ thoughts were on the Christmas break. Professor Richmond would be due any day to ask for the names of the students who would be staying for the holidays.

“Yeah. Mum said they’re going to meet me and James off the Hogwarts Express. You?”

“Same here.” And both boys fell into a silence. Neither wanted to go home, neither wanted to stay at Hogwarts, but unable to admit it to themselves, that what was underlying their indecision was that neither wanted to be without each other for two weeks.

“You’ll write, yeah?” Albus asked eventually.

“Of course! Every day,” Scorpius said excitedly and Albus laughed.

“If I wrote every day it would be so boring. _Got up, had breakfast, threw porridge at James, got in trouble, went to bed_.” Albus grinned.

“That is a waste of good porridge.”

“I see it as porridge’s noble work.” Both boys began to laugh.

The night before the last day of classes, Scorpius had another dream.

He had been walking through Malfoy Manor, wand in hand. It was red hot and still subtly humming from the Dark Magic that had coursed through it. He walked through the cellar, scared eyes in the shadows peered out before him. He walked through the Long Gallery, the generations of ancestors whispering their approval. He walked through Drawing Room, he breathed in the smell of blood.

“Good boy,” A soft voice had whispered in his ear, encouraging him to raise the wand at a man who was kneeling in front of him. “Punish him.” He raised the wand, his hand shaking. Red light exploded from his wand, hot and furious. A scream rent the air, echoing through the halls.

Scorpius woke, scared and trembling. He crawled out of bed and went to the window, wishing he could look out onto the grounds, but the water beyond was dark and full of shadows.

“Scorpius? Why in the name of Dumbledore are you up? It’s barely four.” Craig had his bed closest to the window and had noticed the figure standing in what little light came in through the thick glass.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Scorpius murmured and sat on the wide window sill. He didn’t want to go back to sleep. He leaned his head against the glass, enjoying the cool on his temple. 

Craig sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Yup.” Even Scorpius didn’t believe he sounded convinced. He didn’t want to tell anyone of his dream, it would just reinforce what everyone believed anyway, he was an evil Dark wizard.

“Okay,” Craig yawned loudly and bunkered back down under the blankets.

As the sounds of Craig’s soft snores started up again, Scorpius didn’t move from the window sill. Gradually getting colder since the fire in the brazier had reduced down to embers in the night; he watched the almost black water change to a deep greenish blue when the sun began to rise. He was just dozing off when he felt a soft thump against the head. A pair of dirty socks had been thrown at him by a grinning Artair.

“Ew,” Scorpius said. His nose screwed up and with thumb and forefinger, he plucked off the sock that had landed on his shoulder and flung it back into the room. The smell was quite horrible. There was a very quiet whisper at the back of his mind, _Punish him_.

“Last day of classes, Scorpy. Be happy,” Artair insisted. “Two weeks free of school. Two weeks of presents. Two weeks of food. I love Christmas.”

Scorpius frowned at the new nickname he seemed to have acquired and slipped down inelegantly off the window sill, almost toppling over when he landed awkwardly. Artair threw another sock at him. Spying his wand sitting on top of his trunk, the voice in his head spoke a little louder. _Punish him_.

“No,” he whispered to himself. He thought about his wand. It was made of blackthorn, with a very distinctive patterning of light and dark wood and a crook at the centre. At Ollivanders, his father had been a little surprised that this wand had chosen Scorpius, until he learned the core was unicorn hair. Curious about his father’s reaction, he had read up on wand lore. He had read that blackthorn was usually favoured by warriors and wielders of Dark magic due to its powerful nature. Yet paired with the unicorn hair made it a conflicted wand, as a unicorn core made the wand difficult to turn to the Dark Arts.

Conflicted, that was how Scorpius felt now. As he told Albus at the Manor, he’d grown up surrounded by the Dark Arts; it was all he had known. Now being at Hogwarts he was realising just how abnormal that was. No one else knew poisons as well as him. No one else had Dark objects on display at their houses. No one else had a famous Death Eater as their father. Was it any wonder the other kids had latched so eagerly onto the rumour about his parentage? It was only a small step from Death Eater to Lord Voldemort.

“I’m not Dark. I’m not Dark,” he muttered to himself as he got dressed for breakfast.

“Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness,” said Albus playfully, who had just woken up. He yawned and rolled onto his back to look up at the underside of his four-poster bed. There was a sock hanging from one of the overhead beams. He looked about and found another on his bed covers and about seven on the floor. Obviously, Artair had been trying to get Scorpius for some time before he managed to succeed.


	7. Christmasses

On Christmas morning, Albus was awoken early by his little sister Lily and younger cousin Hugo Granger-Weasley, bouncing on the end of his bed, yelling and screaming for him to get up.

“Get up Al! Get up!” they chorused together and continued their bouncing, arms flailing all over the place.

“Okay okay!” Albus relented, covering his head with his arms to shield himself from little feet that were kicking out in all directions.

“Mum says we’re not allowed to open presents unless we’re all up,” Lily sang loudly.

“I’m up, okay, I’m up. Stop jumping on me!” Albus managed to extricate himself from the assault on his bed and pulled his Slytherin robe on over his pyjamas. Hugo ran ahead out of the room, while Lily grabbed Albus’ hand to pull him along.

“Come on, Al, there are presents! Presents!” she exclaimed as though he didn’t understand the importance of the situation and pulled him down the stairs.

The downstairs living room was filled with people, Potters, Weasleys, and Grangers, all chatting, eating breakfast or wistfully looking at the pile of unopened presents. It was lucky the Potter’s house was so big that it could accommodate the large family gatherings and they didn’t have to eat outside like they did at The Burrow.

“Merry Christmas Al,” said his mother, Ginny, and hugged him tight. “We were worried you might sleep until lunchtime.” She kissed the top of his head and then passed him a plate of sausages, beans and bacon.

“I guess I was a little tired,” Albus said and breathed in the delicious smell of the bacon. It had been three days of a house full of guests ever since Albus and James had returned from Hogwarts. To make things easier, Victoire and Dominique had come home with them as Uncle Bill, Aunt Fleur and Louis were coming down the next day. Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, Rose and Hugo had also stayed from collecting Rose off the train. Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey, Molly and Lucy were going to Audrey’s family first before heading over to the Potters. Uncle George, Aunt Angelina with their twins Fred and Roxanne had arrived yesterday. Grandma and Grandpa Weasley turned up early in the morning to help Harry and Ginny with the Christmas breakfast for such a full house. Uncle Charlie was due to arrive any moment, having said he could only stay for lunch. Hermione’s Muggle parents Mr and Mrs Granger were also in the mix, chatting eagerly to Grandpa Weasley, marvelling at the magical chaos before them.

Lily tugged at Ginny’s sleeves. “Can we open presents now? Can we? Please Mum?”

“Yes yes, grandparents first though,” Ginny said and Lily scooted off, collecting Hugo and their other cousin Louis they dived into the present pile like a trio of Nifflers searching for gold.

Victoire looked as mopey as Albus felt, complaining to her mother that she wanted to spend Christmas with Teddy.

“He’s got no-one, it’s only him and Granny Tonks. You should have invited them over,” she was saying to her own mother, Fleur.

“’Arry did ask, Vicki, but zey wanted to have a quiet Christmas,” her mother answered, her French accent hadn’t completely disappeared in all the years she had lived in England.

“But we’re going to France tomorrow, I won’t get to see him for days!” Victoire complained and dramatically flopped forward as if the thought of France was too much to handle. She then spotted Albus in his green robe and she scooted over, silver hair flowing behind her like a waterfall.

“Al! I have a favour to ask,” she said and sat down next to him while he ate his breakfast. Lily, Hugo and Louis were sorting through the large pile of presents, distributing them swiftly, grandparents first, then parents, so as to get to their own as quick as possible.

“Me?” Albus asked.

“Well, Scorpius actually,” she clarified. “He is Andromeda’s great nephew, yeah?”

“Yes. We’ve established that,” Albus confirmed. A couple of packages found their way into their laps, being carefully dropped off by Louis.

“Well, I’ve been talking to Teddy and Granny Tonks would really love to see her sister,” Victoire explained. She picked up the smallest package in front of her and cooed, “Ohh it’s from Teddy!”

“Can’t she just write to her?” Albus asked.

“That’s the thing. It’s been so long and Granny Tonks has tried before and never got an answer. So, I was thinking maybe Scorpius could write to his grandmother to ask?” Victoire said hopefully. She flashed a set of perfect white teeth, turning on the charm. “It would be an awesome Christmas present for Teddy’s gran.”

Albus contemplated for a moment, while chewing on a mouthful of sausage. “I guess I could ask, but I can’t promise anything,” he said as another package landed in front of him with a short and sharp ‘merry Christmas’ and almost fell into his beans.

“Thank you, Al! You’re the best.” She gave Albus a quick hug and dashed away to open her gifts.

Christmas Day continued in the same loud and happy manner throughout the Potter household. The living room was piled with discarded wrapping paper. The younger kids happily played with their new toys or ate all the sweets they had received as presents. Trick and joke gifts exploded from the great big wizard crackers Uncle Ron and Uncle George had brought along from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and even before lunch finished everyone had been subjected to at least one prank, the most popular was trying to make their seating neighbour eat a concealed Canary Cream that would cause the consumer to break out in feathers.

After lunch, Albus couldn’t help being swept up in Rose’s game of Hide and Seek while the adults had their traditional afternoon nap. Ron and George had also joined in the children’s game. James was the seeker and it didn’t take long before Albus’ hiding spot was sought out, even while he was wearing one of the Headless Hats that the crackers had showered forth. He had thought hiding in James’ wardrobe was a safe bet since James barely opened his wardrobe as all his clothes lived permanently on his floor. Albus wasn’t even sure if James knew the wardrobe even existed.

“Found the Slytherin!” James called out to the house at large and Albus crawled out of his hiding spot, throwing the hat at his brother, who bounced away in search for the rest of clan. Albus moped downstairs and slumped down next to his mum, who was politely allowing Grandma Weasley to listen to her favourite singer warble Christmas carols on the wireless.

“What’s up, Al?” Ginny asked

“Just add Hide and Seek to the things I am rubbish at,” he said with a sigh.

“You are not rubbish,” his mother said kindly and brushed a hand over his hair, then cuddled him close. “It doesn’t seem like you’re having a very good day.”

“I’m okay,” Albus lied. By mentioning Slytherin, James had just reiterated what Albus had being feeling just bubbling in under the surface, that he didn’t belong and he missed the only friend that understood him. “Could we invite Scorpius to visit?”

“We’ll see,” Ginny said.

“You let James’ friends stay over summer,” Albus argued.

“Let me talk to your father and we’ll decide.”

“You don’t want him here.” Albus’ mood was descending from gloom to anger rather quickly. “Just because you don’t like his dad.”

“I didn’t say that, Al. Harry and I will talk it over.”

“And you’ll decide you won’t allow him to visit!” Albus got up off the couch and stormed off, growling at Uncle George who tried to feed him some Fever Fudge.

“Not a good time, George,” Albus heard his mother say as he stomped up the stairs. He went into his room and slammed the door.

Unlike Albus, Scorpius’ Christmas morning was quiet. He awoke glad that the dream he had had a couple nights ago hadn’t manifested again and after getting dressed he ran down to the dining room for breakfast. He heard his mother and father talking and held back to listen, almost slipping on the stone stairs as he stopped so abruptly.

“Do you think they’ll come?” Astoria asked.

“I invited them, but you know what father is like,” Draco said and there was an air of disappointment in his voice. He reached over to squeeze his wife’s hand.

“At least we’ll have one surprise for Scorpius,” Astoria added. At that, Scorpius thought he should make his presence known and came into the dining room, singing at the top of his voice. “Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la laaaaa, la la la laaaaaaa!”

After a light breakfast of croissants, fresh fruit and other pastries, Scorpius ran into the Entrance Hall when a loud bell sounded. The door opened in his presence and he grinned when he saw who was standing on the threshold.

“Grandma! Grandpa!” he exclaimed and as soon as they were inside, Scorpius had hugged them tightly. Mrs Greengrass pulled back to look at her grandson, she rested a hand on his pale cheek.

“You’ve grown so much!” she exclaimed. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.” This last remark was directed to Astoria who had followed her son in to greet the visitors. Politely, Astoria kissed her mother on the cheek and gave her father a one-armed hug.

“Mother,” she warned, “you are always welcome here.” And as though to contradict Astoria, a loud clanking came from a nearby suit of armour.

“So I see,” Mrs Greengrass said coldly.

“Don’t I get a hug?” said another voice from behind Mr and Mrs Greengrass and Scorpius beamed.

“Aunt Daphne!” A tall good-looking woman, very similar in appearance to Astoria, with long shiny dark hair walked into the Entrance Hall to give Scorpius a hug. She then went to Astoria and the two sisters hugged fiercely.

“It’s good to see you, Tori,” Daphne said, holding her sister in the tight embrace, “You’re looking so well! All that peace and quiet must have helped.”

“I have bad days, but overall I’m feeling good,” Astoria replied. Scorpius frowned. His mother had lied to her sister. Her illness wasn’t getting better and the number of bad days was growing, not diminishing.

This was Scorpius’ surprise, a Christmas with all of the family. His father had even tried to invite his Grandfather and Grandmother Malfoy to make Scorpius happy. Astoria led her family through to the Drawing Room where stood the magnificent Christmas tree. It rivalled even those that adorned the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Twelve feet high, it was decorated in blue twinkling icicles, flickering candles, gold baubles and a shining gold star right at the top. Even with Mrs Greengrass’ indifference to her daughter’s in-laws, even she couldn’t be failed to be impressed by the sight.

“Well, it is lovely here,” she commented haughtily, looking down her nose at the plush velvet sofa before deciding to sit down.

“You would know it was lovely had you wanted to visit,” Astoria countered and began pouring the Manor’s Superior Red wine into glasses. She offered the wine to Daphne, but she refused and asked for something soft instead.

“You married a _Death Eater_,” her mother hissed in a harsh whisper. “You brought humiliation to our family.”

“Mother,” Astoria warned again, her voice low and husky. Her eyes flicked to where Scorpius was sitting next to his Aunt. “He was sixteen, he had no choice.”

“That does not excuse the things he did, the kind of man he is. He should be in Azkaban like the rest of them,” Mrs Greengrass argued. Scorpius pulled his feet up onto the sofa and Daphne put an arm around him. He’d heard this argument before and it made him feel even worse now, now he knew that other people also thought the same way as his grandma.

“And not a day goes by I don’t regret this mark on my arm.” It was Draco’s low drawling voice. He had entered the Drawing Room and pulled up the sleeve of his robe to show his mother-in-law the faded, red scar of the Dark Mark on his skin. Mrs Greengrass sat back and swallowed heavily, not wanting to be in the presence of something so evil.

Draco took one of the glasses of wine. “Today is a day for family. We will at least pretend to be civil.”

“Hear hear,” agreed Mr Greengrass holding up his glass, then he took a sip of the deep dark red wine. “Good drop.”

“And speaking of family,” Daphne said, a glass of cordial and berries in her hand. “I have some news.” Mrs Greengrass made a noise of displeasure. Daphne ignored her and put Scorpius’ hand on her belly.

Biting his lip, he looked up at his Aunt, “You’re having a baby?” he asked.

“Yes,” she smiled, “you’re going to have a little cousin.” Scorpius beamed happily.

Astoria squealed with excitement. “That’s wonderful news, Daphy!” She swept her sister up in another tight embrace, almost spilling both their drinks. Draco managed to catch up the glasses with a levitation spell and directed them to a nearby side table.

“I didn’t know you were married, Aunt Daphne,” Scorpius said innocently.

“She’s not,” growled Mrs Greengrass, “A good girl would have been married before she got knocked up by some back-street tramp.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Here we go again,” she murmured. She disentangled herself from her sister’s arms. “He isn’t a tramp, Mother. And even if we were married, you would have found fault.”

Mrs Greengrass opened her mouth to retort, but Daphne cut across her. “Make a good pure-blood marriage, you said. Tori couldn’t have made a better pure-blood marriage. A Malfoy, Mother. A _Malfoy_. And you’re still not happy.”

“You don’t have to fight my battles for me, Daph,” Astoria said, keeping a hold on her older sister’s hand.

“Now, now girls. Not a time to argue,” spoke up Mr Greengrass, having finished his glass of wine. “However I will have some more of this wonderful wine.” Draco obliged and refilled his father-in-law’s glass.

The fight seemed to have gone out of Mrs Greengrass as both daughters and her husband seemed to be against her. She pursed her lips and sat back, begrudgingly taking a sip of the wine to calm her nerves. Scorpius let out a sigh of relief. He was grateful to Grandpa for stepping in to stop the arguing, he wasn’t sure he could handle much more, considering it was for his benefit they were here.

Astoria and Daphne settled down on Scorpius’ sofa to talk, while Draco and Mr Greengrass chatted about the wine cellar.

“Who is the father, Daph?” Astoria asked, picking up her wine again.

“Do you remember Miles from school?” her sister answered, rubbing the barely visible bump of her stomach.

“Kind of.”

“We’ve kind of been seeing each other.”

Smiling to himself, Scorpius felt happy for the first time in a while. This was how families were supposed to act, talking and drinking and being normal. He slipped off the sofa and sat by his grandmother. She smiled down at him, pleased by his company.

Christmas lunch was a much more enjoyable affair, now a few home truths had been brought out into the open. Even Mrs Greengrass had deigned to speak to Draco. After dessert of a flaming plum pudding, they all retired back to the Drawing Room to exchange gifts. Just as Scorpius was about to tuck into the large bag of Every Flavour Beans he had received from Albus – he had laughed when he opened the present as it was exactly the same thing he had given Albus – Draco came and sat by him.

“This is something a little extra, from me,” he said and produced a small green box, wrapped with a green ribbon. Scorpius looked up at his father, then down at the box. He carefully opened the gift. There sitting on green silk was a silver tie-pin and ring, both with the Slytherin snake emblem.

“These were your grandfather’s, he gave them to me when I was sorted into Slytherin. Now I’m giving them to you. They’ve been in the family for generations,” Draco explained as Scorpius picked up the ring to examine it. It was exquisitely detailed. The snake almost looked real. The silver was Goblin-wrought and it looked old, and it had bright emeralds for eyes.

“Thanks, Dad,” Scorpius said and put the ring on his right index finger. Automatically it shrunk to fit his smaller hand.

“I know it’s been hard for you at school. But you are part of an ancient family that is older than Hogwarts. Be proud of being a Malfoy. Be proud of being in Slytherin. Don’t take what the other kids say to heart. You know who you are in here.” Draco placed his hand on Scorpius’ chest. “Remember you are also your mother’s son and you’ve inherited the best of her. Her goodness and kindness.”

Scorpius wasn’t sure whether his father’s talk was making him feel better or more wretched. Even the students who didn’t believe the rumour about Voldemort still avoided him for being a son of a Death Eater. “Will it get better? Will they stop saying I’m the son of Voldemort?” he asked softly, looking down at the ring. The eyes sparkled when he turned his hand to catch the light.

“Kids can be cruel,” Draco said quietly and Scorpius knew his father was talking about himself. “The rumour will go away, even if I have to take it up with the Ministry itself.”

“Dad?” Scorpius said in a sing-song voice, a note of mischievousness in his tone. His father noted it and hummed warily. “Would you have disowned me if I had been sorted into Hufflepuff?”

Draco’s pale eyes fixed on his son and his jaw tightened. “Hufflepuff?” He took a deep steadying breath in through his nose, looking very much like his own father. “Of course not,” he replied in a small voice, his lips were pressed together and it appeared as though it took all his strength to say it.

Grinning playfully, Scorpius popped a yellow Every Flavour Bean in his mouth, which thankfully turned out to be butterscotch. There was a laugh from Daphne who had come over to join them. She sat on the arm of the sofa next to Draco.

“You’re game, Scorpius, to tease your father that,” she said with a smile and patted Draco on the shoulder at the perturbed look on his face.

“I have a very rude son,” Draco said, his mouth beginning to curl up into a smile. “Hufflepuff indeed.”

Thinking it best not to tell his father that the Sorting Hat really did consider him for Hufflepuff, Scorpius went back to digging around in the Every Flavour Bean bag, leaving the two old classmates to talk.

“How are you doing, Draco?” Daphne asked with concern. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you. Have you kept in contact with any of the old gang?”

“The ones in Azkaban, or the ones that hate me?” Draco replied sardonically.

“They don’t hate you.”

“Pansy?”

Daphne shifted uncomfortably on the arm of the sofa. Pansy Parkinson had been Daphne’s friend and Draco’s girlfriend while at Hogwarts. Neither had had much to do with her since Draco had chosen Daphne’s younger sister for his wife. “Well, Pansy was always a bit of social climber. I think she was more disappointed with not being Mistress of Malfoy Manor than not being with you.”

With a hum of agreement, Draco sat back in the sofa and conjured himself a glass of wine from the bottle that was sitting half empty on the coffee table.

“I saw Nott a couple times a few years back. He was doing some work for my father before he disappeared off to France. But apart from that, no one,” Draco said. “Not many old _friends_ want to associate with the man who put most of their relatives in Azkaban. It was best to avoid society.”

Scorpius heard the loneliness in his father’s voice and shuffled along the sofa to sit closer to him, offering up the bag of sweets. Draco took one of the beans, sniffed it cautiously before eating it. It was liquorice.

“Theodore?” Daphne confirmed.

Draco nodded. “He was smart enough not to align himself with the Death Eaters and kept himself out of prison.”

“What did Lucius want with him?” Daphne asked, finding it strange that one of their classmates would be doing work for Draco’s father.

With a glance at Scorpius – his son was now picking out all the yellow coloured beans – Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “No idea. Some secret project. You know what Father is like.” But there was a strange highness to his voice that Scorpius picked up on that Daphne didn’t. That was the tone his father used when he was lying.

It was the best Christmas Scorpius could remember having, even though his father was disappointed that his own parents hadn’t come. By the time Mr and Mrs Greengrass had left for the evening – Aunt Daphne was going to stay overnight – Scorpius was heading up to his bedroom, full of food and sweets and contentment. It would have been nice to see his Malfoy grandparents, but overall it had been enjoyable to celebrate with his mother’s relatives, even though it was a small party of guests.

There was a letter sitting on his pillow and he recognised Albus’ appalling handwriting. He ripped open the seal and flopped down on his bed to read:

_Merry Christmas! I hope your day is going better than mine. Well, it started off ok and I got some cool presents, but the house is just so full of people there is no space to breathe. Even Aunt Hermione’s parents are here (they’re Muggles) I’m not sure they’ve ever been to a Wizard’s Christmas before, they seem quite freaked out. To add to the chaos, every now and then someone will sprout feathers all over their bodies thanks to Uncle Ron and Uncle George’s joke Canary Creams. _

Scorpius sighed wistfully at the thought of a house full of friends and relatives all having a good time. There was not a snowflake’s chance in hell that anyone would be game enough to prank any of his relatives without the fear of being turned into a toad or something worse. He read on:

_Thank you for the present. I laughed when I opened it. We obviously have no original thoughts or good taste. I’m opting for the latter. _

_I hate to ask, but I told Victoire I would because she’s the nicest of my cousins. She was wondering whether you could put in a good word in with your Grandmother Malfoy for your Great Aunt Andromeda (Teddy’s gran). I know you don’t know her and it’s a lot to ask and I totally get if you can’t do it. There is A LOT of troubled water under that bridge. Vicki thought it would be a nice Christmas present for Teddy’s gran if her sister would talk to her. Anyway, I’ve asked and Vicki will have to be satisfied with that. _

_Mum is banging on my door now (I may have stormed off in a huff earlier. I asked if we could invite you to stay and she said she’ll think about it, which usually means no.) so I better apologise and re-join the family again. See you on the train next week. Albus_

Scorpius sat up and went to his writing desk, taking out quill and parchment. He wanted to reply to Albus straight away. He wanted to tell him about his grandparents visiting, his aunt having a baby and also not to get his hopes up about Grandmother Malfoy, as they didn’t even come for Christmas at their supposed beloved son’s invitation. Scorpius had written almost two full pages in his small neat writing before he realised he’d been rambling too much and signed off. He sealed the letter with the Malfoy crest and called out for Merry. The house-elf appeared immediately.

“Yes Master Scorpius?” she asked with an obedient bow.

“Can you send this to Albus Potter, please?” he said, handing the letter over. Then he had a sudden thought. “Oh, I meant to tell you, I met Slinky at Hogwarts. He said to say hello.”

The elf smiled broadly. “Oh thank you Sir. Merry hopes Slinky is well.”

“He seems happy.”

“All Elves wish they could work at Hogwarts, Sir. It is very prestigious work,” said Merry in her high-pitched voice.

“Do you like working here?” Scorpius suddenly asked. He knew about the Malfoy’s previous elf, Dobby, and how he had been mistreated at the hands of his father’s family.

“Why yes, Master Scorpius,” the Elf replied without hesitation. “You are very kind to Merry.” She then stopped and bowed her head, as though she wanted to continue talking but thought better of it. Scorpius knelt down on the floor to get down to her height.

“It’s okay,” he encouraged, “You won’t get into trouble if you speak your mind to me.”

The Elf’s face twisted in thought, then she said diplomatically, “It is better now.”

“Since Grandfather has left you mean,” Scorpius said shrewdly, and the Elf’s eyes bulged in fright indicating that was exactly what she meant. “I’m sorry he was mean to you.”

Merry’s eyes blinked and began to water with grateful tears, and then she did something she had never done before, something she wasn’t supposed to do. She hugged him. Surprised at the show of affection, Scorpius awkwardly patted her on the back. Springing back immediately, she bowed reverently.

“Merry will send Master’s letter right away,” she said quickly and with a loud crack she was gone in an instant.

That night the dream came back. It was the words of his father that scared him the most. _You know who you are in here._ He was in the Long Gallery, the portraits his ancestors looking down at him. Ancestors who were infamous; notable for their wrong doings and curses, alleged torture and murder, and able to wash their hands of any involvement. Power hungry and money grubbing. Wealth built on the misfortunes of other. All with white blond hair, grey eyes and pale pointed faces. This was his family; this was who he was.

“So clever so young.”

“He could be the best of us.”

A cold white hand closed on his shoulder. Long and bony, a claw with hard long nails. Red eyes glowed in the dark.

“I have a job for you,” a cold high-pitched voice murmured close to his ear.

The fingers tightened on his shoulder and Scorpius woke up in pain. he groped blindly for his wand on his bedside table.

“Lumos!” he cast as soon as the long thin stick of Blackthorn was in his hand. Technically he wasn’t allowed use magic out of school, but he didn’t care. The wand tip ignited and lit up the interior of his curtained bed like daylight. He examined his shoulder. He could have sworn those talons had pierced his skin and warm blood was beginning to seep through his pyjama top. But no. Nothing. His shoulder was fine. He flopped back to his pillow. How long were these dreams going to continue? Leaving his wand tip alight, Scorpius stared up to the underside of his canopy bed, trying to stay awake. But eventually sleep took him over, his eyes unable to stay open, the wand still burning brightly at his side.


	8. Potions and Curses

Sitting on his bed in the Slytherin Dormitory, Scorpius listened to Albus rattle away about all the things that had happened at the Potter’s house during the break that he hadn’t had a chance to put in a letter. His story telling was distracting him from tidying up the clothes and general detritus that was adorning his own bed.

“And accidentally poked Uncle Percy in the eye with his wand, which caused his face to break out in boils. Uncle Ron laughed so much he almost choked on a piece of Cockroach Cluster that Uncle George had managed to swap for one of his Chocolate Cauldrons.”

Scorpius only had one ear on Albus’ story, his mind was still occupied with the dreams he’d been having and wondered if he could brew a Dreamless Sleeping Draught. There was a problem with that particular potion though: you couldn’t take it every night as the cumulative effect could possibly put the drinker into a sleep that was almost impossible to wake from.

“So I thought you might like it,” Albus said and Scorpius realised he was being spoken to when there was a silence and Albus waggled a something in front of his nose.

“What? Sorry?” Scorpius said, his eyes going cross-eyed as he tried to focus on what was Albus was trying to give him.

“Aunt Hermione gave me this for Christmas. It’s a book of what she said are classic Muggle horror stories. You’re more of a reader than me, so maybe you’d like it.” Albus smiled and waggled the book again and Scorpius took it to look at the cover.

“These are Muggle stories?” Scorpius said excitedly, opening it up to the contents page. There were three stories; titles he’d never heard of, by authors he didn’t know. “There’s nothing like this in the library at home. Thanks!”

And while Albus continued to clean up his bed, Scorpius turned to the first story and began to read.

“Do you think Professor Richmond would sign a note for me to get a book out of the Restricted Section?” Scorpius asked, mid-double Potions lesson. They were working on a Forgetfulness Potion that Professor Richmond very loudly hinted might come up in their first-year exam and were allowing it to brew before adding the final ingredients.

“What do you want from there?” Albus asked, pounding up his mistletoe berries into a fine powder.

“A book,” Scorpius said absently, half overseeing Albus’ mortar and pestle work and half glancing up at Professor Richmond to see if she was in a good mood. Back in her bright green robes to support the Slytherin Quidditch team who were playing at the weekend, she had been wandering around the room, giving instruction to those who had gone wrong in the potion. She hadn’t been over to supervise Scorpius and Albus yet as she knew they would be doing fine without her help.

“Duh, I worked that part out. Which book?”

“_Moste Potente Potions_.”

Albus put his pestle down and looked at his friend. “What do you want that for?”

“Research?”

“You’ll have to sound more convincing than that if you’re going to get Professor Richmond’s permission,” Albus said and resumed the crushing of the ingredients in his mortar.

“Did I hear my name?” Professor Richmond had appeared behind them, peering into the bubbling cauldron. She nodded in approval. “Very good. Near perfect as always, boys”

Albus heard a distinct and familiar humph of annoyance from Rose who was working with Polly Chapman at the next table over. She always liked being the best in the class but Scorpius was clearly the superior potion maker.

“That’s because they cheat, Miss!” called out Polly. Hers and Rose’s potion was beginning to smoke and expel an unpleasant burning smell. “Look at his book; it’s covered in notes and corrections.”

“It’s my dad’s book,” Scorpius replied. But what Polly had said was true. He had inherited all his father’s schoolbooks and they all had markings from when Draco was at school. Being under the tutelage of one of the greatest Potioneers, Severus Snape, he had written in all the extra notes his Potions Master had given him in an order to gain an advantage over the other students.

“See? He admitted it. He’s using Dark Arts,” Polly countered with an unpleasant sneer on her face.

“Using notes is not cheating, Miss Chapman. And please refrain from shouting out in my class. Five points from Gryffindor,” Professor Richmond reprimanded. She turned her attention back to Albus and Scorpius. “Perhaps turn the heat down a little. You don’t want it to boil over.” 

As instructed, Scorpius pointed his wand at the fire that was sitting under the cauldron and they reduced down to small flickering yellow flames. “Professor, since I’m obviously your favourite student..,” he began, speaking loud enough for Polly to hear. And after getting the desired indignant humphs from the Gryffindors, he dropped the volume of his voice, “could you sign something for me, please?”

“That depends on what it is,” Professor Richmond replied. Scorpius pulled out a request form, indicating the book he wanted to check out from the Restricted Section. The teacher read it over and gave him a suspicious look.

“That’s some pretty Dark stuff,” she said quietly.

“I don’t want to make anything out of it. I just want to… check something,” Scorpius lamely finished off, his shoulders slumping. Professor Richmond looked at Albus for some sort of confirmation, but Albus just shrugged in confusion and continued to mash up his ingredients. He had no idea why Scorpius wanted such a book especially when there was probably a copy of it in the Malfoy library.

Professor Richmond thought for a moment, weighing up the options. “I won’t sign –“ Scorpius’ face fell “ – however, I will allow you to look at it, under my supervision for thirty minutes. And you are not to take notes.”

Scorpius nodded fervently. “Yes, yes. I won’t even need thirty minutes. Thank you.”

“Tomorrow evening, five o’clock,” Professor Richmond said, before striding off. She tore the permission note in two as she walked away to her desk at the front of the classroom. Scorpius bounced on his toes and clapped his hands together, drawing a laugh from the other Slytherin boys.

“What are you up to?” Albus asked. He was about to pour the crushed ingredients into the bubbling potion before Scorpius stopped him with, “No, another seven minutes,” while checking his watch. “And I’m not up to anything.”

At five o’clock the next day, Scorpius ran down to the Potions Mistress’ office, leaving Albus alone in the Great Hall, with books and parchment and quills strewn all over the Slytherin table. Albus had been given extra Charms homework to finish by Monday morning and his essay for Transfiguration due in two days’ time was only partially finished. Feeling quite stressed, he was reading through Scorpius’ notes when Rose sat down to join him.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” Albus replied automatically, then he looked up to frown at her. “Why are you here?

“You look like you need help,” she said, peering over Albus’ quill to see what he had been writing.

“Well, I don’t,” he said and set up his Transfiguration book on end to hide his work from her.

“Fine,” she sighed and moved away, back to her friends at the Gryffindor table. Albus dropped his head down onto his parchment, hiding behind his book. Unmoved for twenty minutes and starting to doze, it was only when Scorpius had bounced down beside him that Albus lifted his head.

“What’s that?” Scorpius asked, pointing at Albus’ forehead. Frowning Albus put a hand to his head and felt wet ink come away on his palm.

“Damn,” Albus sighed and ducked down behind his book once more, so other students in the Hall couldn’t see the backwards writing on his forehead.

“I’ll get it,” Scorpius said and pointed his wand at Albus’ head. Slightly unnerved, Albus closed his eyes and heard Scorpius say, “_Tergeo_.” There was a strange feeling of the ink being drawn off his skin. Then the sensation stopped and Albus cracked open one eye to look.

“All done,” Scorpius said with a smile.

“Thanks,” Albus muttered and began to clear away his books and school things into his bag as dinner would be starting soon. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“What?” Scorpius asked, helping stack the books into a neat pile.

“In the potions book.”

“Oh, yeah. No it wasn’t there,” Scorpius replied, although Albus wasn’t entirely sure he believed him, as Scorpius had just started singing under his breath to himself and that usually meant he was in a good mood. Thinking it was useless to ask Scorpius again what he had been looking for, Albus changed the subject to Quidditch and Slytherin’s chances against Ravenclaw.

The weeks went by and gradually got warmer. The snow was melting once it had fallen, leaving the grounds wet and slippery. Albus had noticed a small change in Scorpius in those few weeks. For one he was in library as often as he could be. Whenever they had a free moment, he would scoot off for an hour and return looking either happy or depressed. Another small change was the way he had been dealing with the teasing from Artair and Forest. Even when he was told not to, Artair had continued to call him ‘Scorpy’ much to Scorpius’ mortification, as he felt it made him sound like a pet Pygmy Puffskein. So when their fellow Slytherin used it and then patted the top of his head for good measure, Scorpius had uncharacteristically thrown the Leg-Locker Curse at him, causing Artair to fall flat on his nose. Forest and Albus had doubled-over laughing and even Craig bit his lip, trying not to smile. But from then on the nickname had ceased.

“What’s got into you?” Albus asked, still unable to stop giggling every now and then at memory of the look of shock on Artair’s face. Forest had taken him up to the hospital wing to quell the blood that was dripping from his nose. 

“I didn’t mean to!” Scorpius exclaimed, horrified to learn of himself that it was so easy to cast a curse at someone who had been irritating him. “I should apologise.”

“Don’t you dare,” Albus said sternly. “You told him not to call you that and that’s what he gets for being a git. And it might stop the kids for calling you other horrible things.”

“I doubt it,” Scorpius replied, slumping down onto his bed and looking at his wand. “It will probably just confirm what they already think. That I’m a Dark wizard.”

“Why?”

“That was Dad’s favourite spell to use, you know, when he was, er, at school.” Scorpius hid his face in the pillows. He didn’t want to elaborate any further, but Albus knew what he was talking about. It had been Draco Malfoy’s spell of choice when bullying other students.

“People won’t know that,” Albus said, trying to reassure. “Anyway, Artair will be too embarrassed to tell anyone that you got the better of him.”

But Artair didn’t have to tell anyone. As two weeks later while walking out the Great Hall for lunch, Gryffindor first years Yann Fredricks and Karl Jenkins had casually greeted Albus with their regular, “Hey Squib” when without warning Scorpius pulled out his wand and hexed Karl, being the closest. This time it wasn’t the Leg-Locker Curse, but Snake Summoning Spell. A black snake erupted from the end of Scorpius’ wand with his cry of ‘S_erpensortia_!’and flew fang-first into the back of Karl’s shoulder. With a shriek of surprise, Karl fell forward with a thump onto the hard, stone floor with a snake now sitting on his chest.

Nearby students screamed and yelled in panic as the snake hissed and slithered onto the floor towards them. Recovering from the initial shock of seeing his friend on the floor being attacked by a snake, Yann turned on Scorpius and aimed his wand at him.

A chant of “Duel! Duel! Duel!” was taken up by the students not being terrorised by the snake, clapping and whooping to encourage the battle.

“Scorpius Malfoy!” called out Professor Longbottom, who had seen Scorpius throw the spell at Karl. The chant turned into a chorus of “oooohs” and even a song of “Malfoy’s in trouble!”. Hurrying over to the fracas, Neville immediately vanished the conjured snake, and helped Karl up off the floor. Neville then turned on the gaggle of students who had decided to hang around to watch.

“Aren’t you all supposed to be in class?” he commanded and the students all scattered at the sight of his angry face. For the most part everyone liked Professor Longbottom as he was the kind Herbology professor, but when he got mad, they could see the man who had once used the Sword of Gryffindor to chop off the head Voldemort’s pet twelve-foot long snake.

“I wouldn’t have expected that from you,” he said to a very contrite Scorpius, disappointment evident in his voice. Scorpius was looking at the floor, wringing his hands around his wand. To make him feel even worse, just at the moment Polly wandered past and murmured loud enough for Scorpius to hear, “I would have.” His jaw clenched momentarily.

“I’m sorry, Professor Longbottom. I don’t know what came over me,” Scorpius said, still unable to look up.

“That’s fifty points from Slytherin and detention,” Neville said.

“He was only defending me,” Albus piped up, not wanting to see his friend get in trouble.

“That’s not an excuse Albus. That is a dangerous spell, Karl could have been seriously bitten. I’ll see you in my office tonight, Scorpius.”

“Yes Professor.”

After dinner Scorpius sloped off to Professor Longbottom’s office. Albus had offered to keep him company as he felt it was his fault Scorpius got detention in the first place, but Scorpius shook his head and walked off alone and distressed. He didn’t need his professor’s look of disappointment to make him feel bad. He felt bad anyway. That was twice now he hadn’t been able to control his emotions and had cursed a fellow student. With a sigh, Scorpius knocked on Professor Longbottom’s door and it was an answered with a loud ‘come in’.

Neville’s office was warm and comfortable, with a blazing fire next to his desk. He sat back in his chair, arms across his chest.

“Take a seat, Scorpius,” Neville said and gestured to the spare seat and Scorpius obediently sat, looking at the floor. He didn’t speak and waited patiently to hear what his punishment would be.

“We’re just going to have a little chat,” Neville said and Scorpius’ head snapped up in surprise.

“You’re not giving me detention?” he asked then a horrible thought entered his head. “Are you going to tell my dad?”

“No and no. I don’t think detention would serve any purpose in this case,” Neville replied. Scorpius breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want his father to know, not because he may get in trouble, but for the off chance that Draco Malfoy would be proud that his son was following in his footsteps.

“This isn’t like you. You don’t go around hexing people for the fun of it. I want to know what’s wrong. Is it the other students? I know they’re still giving you and Albus grief.”

Scorpius looked back at the floor, mulling over what to say. It wasn’t just the students. It was a culmination of everything, including the dreams that hadn’t stopped. There were different now; less horrific and he no longer woke up in a cold sweat. The dream he’d had on Christmas night was one that kept repeating. The tall bony figure he knew to be Voldemort wanting him for a task, his family encouraging him into Darkness.

“How do you know it’s not me? I am a Malfoy after all,” Scorpius said eventually.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Neville asked concerned, sitting forward on his chair and leaning his elbows on his desk.

Scorpius didn’t want to tell anyone of his dreams, but he needed to talk. He needed to voice his fears. “But it’s in me. The Darkness. I know about more Dark Arts than anyone else in my classes and not because I sought them out. It’s just me. Why do you think that everyone believes I’m Voldemort’s son? Because I’m Dark. I’m from a long line of Dark Wizards. Maybe it’s just finally coming out. That this is what I really am.”

“So you think there’s some sort of dormant Dark gene you’ve inherited that has somehow been awoken?” It did sound kind of silly when said out loud, but Scorpius nodded.

“I don’t believe it,” Neville said, then after a moment’s thought he asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Immediately Scorpius shook his head. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to do it. It just sort of happened. But that’s what I mean. If I had a choice I wouldn’t have done it. And it’s not the only time. I cursed Artair too. He was annoying me.” He began to get agitated. “I need to get it out of me. I’m worried about what might happen! I might hurt someone!” He was growing more and more hysterical. His hands had clawed and were gripping tightly to his robes, pulling so hard they were in danger of ripping.

“It’s okay, Scorpius. It’s okay,” Neville said. He got up quickly from his desk and poured Scorpius a glass of water. Scorpius’ hand shook uncontrollably, causing the water to spill. Eventually he managed to calm down enough to take a mouthful.

“I know I said I wouldn’t tell your father, but I think you need to talk to him. You need to tell him what’s worrying you,” Neville said, refilling Scorpius’ glass with a flick of his wand when it was almost empty.

“No, no. I can’t!” The water splashed out of the glass again when Scorpius vigorously shook his head. “He said I need to be proud of being a Malfoy. But I’m not proud. Being a proud Malfoy means embracing the Dark.” He was on the verge of tears now.

“That’s not true,” Neville said kindly. “I told you when you first came to Hogwarts that I saw a change in your father. If anything he’s a proud Malfoy who has rejected the Dark Arts and the pure-blood supremacy that he once championed.”

Scorpius bit his lip and looked up at his professor. Neville leaned back against his desk and gave him a reassuring smile. “And that is a long hard road to go down, especially against your family’s history. It’s a choice, Scorpius. It’s always a choice. I understand that it’s difficult to be proud of a family so shrouded, and I can’t believe I am actually going in to bat for Draco Malfoy, but be proud of your father. He turned his life around. And raised a pretty good kid because of it.”

“Thanks,” Scorpius muttered. He wasn’t totally convinced by Professor Longbottom’s words. Deep down, he knew all that. He knew his father had eschewed the Death Eaters and all they stood for, but it hadn’t stopped him keeping Grandfather Malfoy’s collection of Dark artefacts or leaving up the family portraits in the Long Gallery.

“I still think you need to talk to your father,” Neville insisted and moved back to sit in his chair near the fireplace. “But I don’t want to see or hear about you cursing anyone else. And I definitely don’t want to see any more summoned snakes. Yes?”

“Yes Professor Longbottom.”

Walking into the Slytherin Dungeon, Scorpius was accosted by an excited Albus, who had been waiting near the entrance for him to return.

“Guess what? Guess what?” he almost shouted, bouncing happily. “You never will, so I’ll tell you. Mum just owled me. They’re going to let you stay at mine over the Easter holidays!”

“Great!” Scorpius replied with a genuine smile. Albus passed him the letter he had been holding just to prove it was true, written in his mother’s handwriting. They went over to their usual corner and flopped down on the empty sofa.

“What did Neville make you do?” Albus asked, bringing his feet up onto the cushions, making himself comfortable.

“Nothing. We just talked.” Scorpius said truthfully. The talk with Professor Longbottom had stressed him out, but seeing that Mr and Mrs Potter had finally relented to Albus’ constant nagging, a happy feeling was swelling inside him. Easter was only three weeks away. He handed the note back.

“Best detention ever,” Albus grinned, tucking the note into his robes. “I can’t wait for Mum and Dad to meet you. They’ll finally see you’re nothing like your dad.”

And just like that, the happy feeling inside Scorpius deflated. He swallowed heavily and sighed. “Apart from cursing Artair and Jenkins, you mean,” he said morosely.

Albus waved that away, “That was just an accident. Anyway, if my spell casting was half decent, I would have done it myself. But knowing my luck it would have backfired and I would have snakes growing out of my ears or something. Cheer up. You didn’t even get detention for it. That’s how much of a good boy you are.”


	9. Something is Wrong

A sock flew across the room and hit Albus square in the face. He blinked in surprise and then threw it back at Artair from where it had come. The Slytherin Common Room was alive and raucous with jovial students happy for the last day of term. Wanting a little peace and quiet, Albus had hidden away in the Dormitory. But it was already occupied by Artair and Forest.

“What is it with you and socks?” Albus asked, his nose still screwed up from the smell.

“Stop being so happy then, it’s making my brain hurt,” Artair said, throwing the sock into his trunk.

“Walking and talking at the same time makes your brain hurt,” Forest said with a laugh. He was sitting with his long limbs folded up on his bed with books strewn all over his covers, revising for the exams that were coming up in the next term.

“I’m not allowed to be happy?” Albus asked with a frown.

“No, it’s not natural. You’re usually grumpy,” Artair grinned and Albus threw his pillow at him. 

“There! There’s the grumpy Albus we know and love!” On its way back to Albus’ bed, the pillow accidentally collected Craig who had just walked into the Dormitory. Craig fought off the pillow and chucked it back at Artair.

“So where’s your boyfriend?” Forest asked, looking up from his revision and realising now Craig had joined them, there was someone missing from the quintet of Slytherin first-year boys. 

Albus ignored the slur. “Library, probably. He said he wouldn’t be long.”

But Scorpius didn’t return to the dormitory before Albus fell asleep. He had tried to stay awake, half propped up against his pillows, but the soothing motion of the green water outside their window had lulled him to sleep just before midnight. 

It wasn’t until mid-morning a harried Scorpius still in his school robes dashed into the Dormitory. His white blond hair, although never completely tidy, was more ruffled and his face even paler. There were dark circles of sleep deprivation around his blood-shot grey eyes. He went straight to his trunk and began throwing things into a backpack.

“Where have you been?” Albus asked, bag already packed and checking his watch. “I’ve been waiting. We’re going to miss the train!”

Startled to see someone else in the room with him. Scorpius jumped in fright and continued to stuff all kinds of bottles, books and other things Albus couldn’t see into the bag. “I can’t go with you. I’m so sorry Albus. I can’t. I have to go home.”

“Why? What’s happened?” Albus asked with concern, never having seen Scorpius look so worried before. “Is it your Mum?”

Scorpius looked up, almost on the verge of tears, but shook his head. “I just need to go home. It’ll be there. I know it.”

“What will be there? Scorpius seriously, stop. What is going on?” Albus grabbed Scorpius by the shoulder and looked at him. There was true fear in his eyes. “You’ve been acting strange ever since you came back from Christmas.”

Scorpius looked at Albus. He really did look unwell. “I have to do this, Albus. I promise you’ll understand. But please, just let me go home first,” Scorpius begged, letting out a shaky breath.

Reluctantly, Albus let go of Scorpius’ shoulder and the latter resumed his hasty packing. He threw the bag onto his back and then ran out of the Dormitory without even saying goodbye. Albus felt wretched. His only friend had deserted him at the moment when he had been most happy. With a sinking heart, he grabbed his own bag to head off to Hogsmeade Station to catch the train back to London.

Coming out of the castle, Rose and James had seen Albus waiting for the carriages up ahead and had caught him up.

“I thought your Death Eater pal was coming with us,” James said in way of greeting as he and Rose took up position either side of him.

“Stop calling him that!” Albus growled, but then his anger at James ebbed away back into the depression he was feeling. “And so did I.”

The next empty carriage trundled up, pulled by the invisible Thestrals and the three of them clambered in behind a clutch of second year Ravenclaws. As Rose and James chatted, Albus sat quietly, thinking on his friend’s behaviour. It was so strange. Scorpius had even said he’d been looking forward to meeting Harry Potter. He’d read every book about the famous wizarding world hero he could get his hands on at Malfoy Manor, and wanted to make a good impression.

Lost in his thoughts, Albus managed to make his way onto the train behind Rose and James and was about to follow them into a compartment, when he realised he had seen Neville sitting in the one he’d just passed. Doubling back, Albus opened the door.

“Can I sit with you?” he asked hopefully. He wasn’t in the mood to be confined in a compartment with James for eight hours when they would be stuck in the same house for two weeks.

“Sure,” Neville said. “It will be nice to have company for a change.”

Albus hauled his bag up onto the luggage rack. “Hannah’s not with you?”

“No, Madam Pomfrey needed cover, so Hannah is stuck at Hogwarts for the holidays.” He sounded a little down not to have his wife with him, but Neville was not usually down for long. “No Scorpius?”

“We’re not joined at the hip,” Albus said a little more forcefully than he meant and immediately felt ashamed. “Sorry.” He sat down heavily on the seat opposite Neville and slumped against the window.

“Okay, you look like you need to talk. That is what godfathers are for. As well as slipping you a few extra galleons when your parents aren’t looking,” Neville said with a friendly smile.

The train lurched and Albus stared out the window, watching as the landscape began to move past the glass.

“It’s really weird. Yesterday he was coming home and this morning he was really upset about something. He wouldn’t tell me except he said he had to go home. I don’t understand.”

“Does he ever talk about his family?” Neville asked cautiously and Albus turned his head to look at him. Something in Neville’s voice told Albus that Neville knew more than he was letting on.

Albus shrugged. “Sometimes. Not much. I’m not sure he likes them very much. I mean, he does, but you know, not their Dark past. He doesn’t like his dad being called a Death Eater. Did I tell you? When I went to Malfoy Manor, the portrait of his great great grandfather, I think, demanded to know my blood status. And the portrait of Bellatrix Lestrange thought I was my dad and wanted to kill me!”

“Wow,” Neville replied, “What an introduction to your friend’s family.”

“But you know Scorpius isn’t anything like that,” Albus continued. “I just wish Dad did. That was the plan for these holidays. Introduce them and then Dad will know Scorpius isn’t a Dark Wizard.”

“I’m sure Scorpius will tell you what’s going on when he feels he can,” Neville said sagely.

“Yeah, he said he would. I guess I’m just worried about him.” And Albus slumped against the window again, feeling the chill of the glass against his warm skin. A few minutes later the Trolley Witch came by and Neville bought them each a Chocolate Frog.

The Potter house wasn’t nearly as full for the Easter holidays as it had been for Christmas. The only extra people the Potters were playing host to were Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, Rose and Hugo, who were all regular visitors anyway. Lily and Hugo were off exploring the backyard. Uncle Ron had convinced them he’d seen a gnome running around the back shed and they had gone out to investigate. Rose had taken a book outside, half torn between wanting to look for the gnome too or pretending she was too old for that kind of nonsense. His dad was showing James how to pull off the famous Quidditch move, the Wronsky Feint, while trying to avoid the bewitched bludgers that Ron was flying towards them. Seeing a lonely, miserable Albus sitting on the couch, Aunt Hermione sat down next to him.

“Feel like a hug?” she asked. Albus nodded and shuffled closer as Hermione put her arm around him. She usually knew when Albus didn’t want to talk about things, a fact Albus was eternally grateful for as they sat together, occasionally seeing one of the boys fly past the window.

“So, did you like the book I gave you?” Hermione asked, when Albus snorted back an unexpected laugh when he saw James almost fall of his broomstick.

“Oh,” Albus replied, adding a touch of guilt to the repertoire of feelings that was coursing through him, “I actually lent it to Scorpius to read first. He’d never read Muggle stories before, he was so excited.”

“Oh,” Hermione answered. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll like it then. He’d good at Potions too, isn’t he?”

“Well, I’m only good because of him, but why?”

“Well, one of the stories is about a mad Muggle doctor who thinks he can solve all of humanity’s problems by creating a potion that will separate the good and evil inside a person,” Hermione smiled. “But of course, it all goes horribly badly. I thought being a Potions expert you might find it interesting.”

A heavy weight dropped into Albus’ stomach and he sat up, staring at Hermione and digesting what she had just said. “Did you say a potion to separate good and evil?”

“Yes, it’s quite a famous Muggle story.”

A sense of fear and dread stole over Albus, and his heart started to beat faster in his chest. A million thoughts were racing around in his head. Frowning, his bit the tip of his finger and thought. Was this why Scorpius had been acting so weird?

“Oh, he couldn’t, could he?” he said to himself. He looked at Hermione once more, as if trying to gain access to her intelligent, logical mind so he could process his thoughts. Suddenly he scooted off the couch.

“Where are you going?” she called out to him.

“Malfoy Manor!” he answered and dashed away towards the kitchen. A loud cry of “Ginny!” followed him and he pulled up one of the kitchen chairs to search the cupboards for Floo Powder. Just as he had laid hands on the family’s supply, his mother and aunt hurried into the kitchen.

“Al, what are you up to?” Ginny asked and helped him down off the chair.

“I need to find Scorpius, or his mum or dad at least. I think he’d going to do something really stupid,” Albus explained in a hurry. It was all dropping into place now. Scorpius’ strange behaviour had started at Christmas when Albus had given him that book. Even for a book geek like Scorpius, there was an unusually high amount of trips to the library, if he was even going to the library. He could have been going anywhere in the castle, possibly to the Room of Requirement. Scorpius wanted to borrow that Restricted Potions book, and who knows what other Dark Arts secrets were lurking in the Malfoy Manor library. And Albus had seen him packing bottles into his backpack before rushing out of the Slytherin Dormitory yesterday morning.

“Hold on, you can’t go barging into Malfoy Manor uninvited,” said Ginny and there was a look in her eyes that voiced, _who knows the kind of charms and spells are on that house_. “At least see if everything is okay first before charging in.”

Albus knelt in front of the kitchen fire, threw in the Floo Powder and waited until the flames were crackling a bright green before putting his head in.

“Malfoy Manor!” he commanded in a clear voice. He had always hated communicating this way. It was so uncomfortable with his knees on the hard hearth stone and the sensation of his head travelling through the Network always made him feel nauseous. His head popped through into what he recognised as the Malfoy’s kitchen. He called out.

“Scorpius? Mr Malfoy?”

Suddenly, Merry the Malfoy’s House-Elf appeared in front of him.

“Albus Potter, hello,” she said with a bright friendly smile. “Can Merry help you?”

“Hi, Merry,” Albus said, relived that someone at least was in the Manor. “Is Scorpius there? Or Draco? Whoever’s closest, I need to talk to them. Urgently.”

“Of course, Merry will fetch her Master,” Merry said and with a crack she Disapparated. Almost immediately she returned with Draco. He was surprised to see Albus’ head in the fireplace.

“Something up?” he asked. There was a distinct frostiness in his voice and he looked down his nose. Albus didn’t take any notice and began to gabble anxiously.

“Is Scorpius okay? I mean is he there? I think something’s wrong. He’s been really weird. And I’m worried. Do you know where he is?”

“He was a little out of sorts last night when he arrived home, but I assumed that was due to you saying something had come up and he couldn’t visit…”

Albus interrupted. “No, no I didn’t say that. It was him. He said he couldn’t come because he had to go home.”

Draco’s eyes darkened. “And no, I haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“We need to find him!” Albus exclaimed. He shifted awkwardly on the hearth stone, his knees and back were beginning to ache. There really needed to be a better way to talk to a fellow wizard. Aunt Hermione had spoken about something the Muggles called a telephone and it sounded much more civilised than fire-communication. “This is a really uncomfortable way to talk. Can I, can I come through?”

“Sure,” Draco replied.

Albus pulled his head back through to his kitchen, rubbing his neck.

“Is everything okay?” Ginny and Hermione asked at the same time. Albus shook his head, partly to say no and partly to remove the soot from his hair.

“No, I’m going over there,” he said and took another pinch of Floo Powder.

“Do you want us to come?” Ginny asked, worry etched on her face.

“I’ll be okay,” Albus said, throwing the powder in to the flames once more. The emerald flames danced under the mantle. Ginny gave him a quick kiss on his forehead.

“Be careful. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m sure Scorpius is fine,” she said and Albus walked into the flames.

Seconds later he was shooting out of the kitchen fireplace at Malfoy Manor. Merry helped him to his feet and brushed the soot off his clothes.

“Tell me everything,” Draco insisted.

As quickly and as coherently as he could, Albus explained the situation, telling Draco about the book and the strange way Scorpius had been acting at school, as well as what he had gathered from the chat he had with Neville on the train.

“We need to find him,” Draco said. “Come with me. You too, Merry. He’s a smart kid but sometimes his emotions take him over and he stops thinking logically.” Hurrying in Draco’s wake, Albus and Merry almost had to run to keep up with his long strides as he led them through to a chamber off the back entrance. Draco opened the large armoire. It was full of coats, boots and broomsticks.

“His broom is still here, so he hasn’t gone far.” Draco turned his attention to the Elf, “Find Mrs Malfoy. You two are to search the house, start in the library. Albus and I will search the nearby grounds.”

Merry looked almost as anxious as Albus felt. She managed a shaky curtsey and an even shakier “Yes, Master,” before running off to find Astoria.

“It is so easy to hide in these grounds,” Draco muttered as they hurried outside. “I don’t want you getting lost. Check the out buildings close to the house, the Old Hall. I’ll go further afield.” Barely a pop was heard as Draco expertly Disapparated leaving Albus on his own. He tried to remember the places Scorpius had shown him last time he was here and perhaps the best corner to hide in. He decided on the Old Hall. The ruins of the former manor were just visible through the hedges and Albus ran toward them.


	10. Primitive Duality

The Old Hall would have been an impressive sight in its prime, but having been abandoned for the last few centuries it was now a hollow stone shell with no roof, partly swallowed up by creeping, creaking vines. It looked more like a fortress than a comfortable family home. Albus walked around the stone edifice looking for a way in. In a dark corner he spied a stone archway with an iron gate barring entrance. It didn’t look very inviting, but it seemed to be the only way in. Hesitantly he pushed on the gate and it opened with a loud screech of rusted metal on metal. A strange feeling came over him, a shiver running down his spine. Whatever magic had once resided here was well and truly dead.

There was a short tunnel beyond, light filtering in from the other end.

“Scorpius?” Albus called, walking into the darkness. Something fluttered near his shoulder. He spun around quickly and put a hand on his wand. It was a Doxy, just a stupid annoying pest. Letting out a shaky breath, Albus hurried forward to the light. The tunnel opened up into what might have been an internal courtyard. There were tall stone buildings on all sides with glass missing from most of the window openings. Other stone archways led off into the buildings and stone steps led to the upper levels.

Albus called out again, “Scorpius?” He looked around, wondering which way to go. He knew there was a spell to revel human presence, but he wasn’t sure of the correct incantation. It was also well beyond his abilities. He half wished Aunt Hermione had come with him, there wasn’t a spell she couldn’t cast, although apparently she did have trouble with Patronuses according to his dad. Deciding on the steps he ran up them, heading into the upper floor of the tallest building.

“Scorpius!” he yelled out and a loud screech answered him. Almost losing his footing he grabbed onto the wall to stop himself falling back down the steps. One of the large white peacocks that usually wandered the grounds came out of a nearby doorway.

“Stupid bird,” Albus muttered and took a moment to calm the heavy beating of his heart. Avoiding the peacock, he walked through another stone archway, moving deeper into the building. It was becoming darker as the windows were smaller and let little light through. Moving shadows could be seen through a distant doorway. Albus hurried closer. There in the corner of the small dark chamber was Scorpius, white blond hair lit up by the flickering purple flames under a simmering cauldron. Bottles, ingredients and books were strewn all around him. Desperately he looked through one of the nearby books, flicking the pages with his wand until he found what he was apparently searching for. He grabbed a small bottle and poured the contents into the cauldron. Dark, sickly green, acrid smelling smoke erupted with a bang.

“Scorpius!” Albus called out and ran over to his friend.

Scorpius looked up, shocked to see Albus. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I told you I would tell you. I need to do this. It’s nearly finished. Just a couple more ingredients.” And he threw in a handful of bright purple petals. He stirred the potion three times, then three times the other way

“No, Scorpius you don’t. I know what you’re doing. You have to stop,” Albus said, carefully taking a couple steps forward, and peering down to see what book Scorpius had been using. The potion on the page looked complicated and well in advance of even Scorpius’ level.

“It will work. And I won’t have the Darkness inside me anymore,” Scorpius said. He sounded almost calm, confident that what he was doing would work. He pointed his wand at the flames and cast the spell to put them out.

“It was just a story. Just a Muggle story. It’s not real,” Albus tried, but Scorpius picked up an empty bottle and dipped it into the potion, collecting to what Albus looked like a glossy, shimmering thick gelatinous mess. It moved inside the glass, like tiny snakes writhing together. A gloop dropped back into the cauldron and it hissed loudly.

“You’re right, a Muggle story. I’m a wizard, I can make it work,” he said and held the bottle up to the tiny amount of light coming into through a high window to examine the contents.

“No, you can’t!” yelled Albus, he was getting desperate now. He didn’t know what to do. He needed someone. Anyone. Maybe if he yelled loud enough Draco would be able to hear him. His best option was just to charge at Scorpius to make sure the potion spilled and he couldn’t drink any of it. “This is too advanced. Even for you. Please don’t drink it. Please.”

But it was too late. Scorpius placed the bottle neck to his lips and tipped it into his mouth. Albus yelled “No!” Instantly Scorpius doubled over in pain, screaming as his body twisted and contorted into unnatural poses. He dropped to the floor in agony. The bottle of potion shattered as it hit the ground and began to sizzle and eat through the rough stone floor.

“Scorpius! Scorpius!” Albus ran to his friend, who screamed again in pain at Albus’ touch as though he had been burned with a red-hot iron.

Unable to think of anything else to do, Albus ran out to where the Old Hall opened up to the sky and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Draco!” The grounds were too big, there would be no way Draco or anyone could have heard him. Truly panicked, Albus tried the red sparks spell, knowing he had trouble with that spell and never got more than a little sparkle. Aiming his wand up in the air he yelled “_Vermillious_!” Bright red sparks erupted from the tip of his wand, exploding overhead like a firework.

Albus nervously bounced on his toes, tears starting to well in his eyes and barely half a minute later Draco Apparated beside him.

“Where is he?” he demanded.

“Through here,” Albus said leading the way through to the chamber. “I couldn’t stop him. He drank it. He drank it!” Tears were now streaming down his face. Scorpius was curled up on the floor, groaning in agony, clutching at the stone beneath him.

“What did he take?” Draco demanded, running to his son’s aid. He sniffed at the contents of the still smoking cauldron and screwed up his face in disgust.

“I don’t know,” Albus cried, “I think he created it from different potions.”

Draco took action. He waved his wand at the cauldron and it vanished. He did the same with the books and bottles, sending them away to where he needed them to be. He picked Scorpius up into his arms. He had fallen limp and lifeless and Albus let out a loud sob.

“Hold on to my arm, tightly,” Draco instructed and Albus did so. Side-along Apparition was like travelling via Portkey. Albus felt like being squeezed through a small tube while trying to be turned inside out at the same time. Holding back a wave of nausea as they reappeared inside the Manor, Albus was in room Scorpius hadn’t shown him on his previous visit. It looked the Potions classroom at Hogwarts. Jars of ingredients and bottles of potions sat on many shelves and in display cabinets that lined the walls. All the books, bottles and the cauldron that Scorpius had used were all in the room as well. Draco put Scorpius on a stone bench and then immediately searched the shelves.

Albus didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t even sure Scorpius was still alive. Out of the dark chamber in the Old Hall, Albus could now see Scorpius’ skin had turned a sickly dark greyish green. He tentatively reached out and took Scorpius’ limp hand and squeezed it gently. It was cold as ice. He then moved his fingers to press against the underside of his wrist. There was a very slow, very faint pulse. Albus moved out of the way when Draco had found what he was looking for and he placed a weird looking brown stone in Scorpius’ mouth. Then he stood over him and waved his wand, murmuring an incantation. Scorpius didn’t wake up but his skin started to lighten, returning slowly to its regular colour.

“Merry!” Draco called and the House-Elf appeared with her usual loud crack. Seeing Scorpius lying as if dead on the bench, she let out a loud squeak of despair.

“Master Scorpius!” she cried. “Will he be okay?” Frantically, she wrung her hands on her pillowcase, causing her ears to wobble.

Draco didn’t answer the question and looked down at his son. “Inform Mrs Malfoy we’ve found Scorpius. Stoke the fire in his room, hot at you can manage.”

“Yes Master,” Merry bowed and did as she was bid, although it seemed she had trouble Apparating due to her emotions so she ran out of the chamber.

As quick as he could, Draco began sorting through bottles and ingredients, and examined the remaining potion in Scorpius’ cauldron. He waved his wand over the contents. Every now and then he would write something down. Albus felt helpless standing around doing nothing. He was about to ask if there was anything he could do, when Draco spoke.

“Tell me if you feel him getting colder.” Albus nodded. He stood beside Scorpius and kept a hold on his hand. It was still very cold, but not as icy to touch as it was previously.

Draco worked furiously, throwing ingredients into another cauldron. Albus assumed he was working on an antidote, but as they didn’t know exactly what potion Scorpius had drunk it would be difficult to get things right. A few minutes later Astoria ran into the room. Albus again moved out of the way, to allow her to access to her son.

“What happened, Draco?” she exclaimed, running a hand over her son’s forehead. “He’s so cold!” Tears streamed down her cheeks and she began to shake with nerves.

“He drank this,” Draco said, indicating the horrible glutinous potion in the cauldron. “I’ve given him a bezoar. It’s holding it off, but I need to make an antidote. I just don’t know what he used.” It was the first time Draco sounded anxious. He had been so good to keep his emotions in check so he could work on what had to be done to save his son, but his stony façade was failing.

Astoria took a firm, anxious hold of Draco’s hand. “Is there someone who can help?” she asked softly, her voice barely unable to make it over a whisper without sobbing.

“If you could bring Snape back from the dead. He’d know what to do.”

Encouragingly, Astoria leaned up and kissed her husband’s cheek. “You can do it. You learnt from the best.” It seemed to give him the boost he needed and he went back to work.

Astoria then moved back to Scorpius’ side and brushed his hair back from his cold forehead. She gave him a kiss too, before reaching out to Albus.

“Come with me. Tell me what happened,” Astoria said kindly and Albus reluctantly left Scorpius’ side.

It felt like hours to Albus sitting with Astoria in the Drawing Room, waiting for any news, when in actual fact it had only been twenty minutes. He had explained as well as he could, now interspersed with hiccups, to Astoria what he had told Draco.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have given him that book,” Albus sniffed. “He said he didn’t want the Darkness inside him anymore.”

“No. No it’s not. It’s ours.” Astoria started to cry again. She put her head in her hands and allowed the heavy tears to fall. Once more, at a loss to what to do, Albus awkwardly patted Astoria on the shoulder. “I should have realised he was upset. I’m his mother. I’m supposed to know my son.”

“I didn’t know either,” Albus said, his guilt increasing. He’d spent nearly every day for the best part of the school year with Scorpius and even Albus hadn’t noticed his best friend was suffering so much. He’d been too wrapped up in his own troubles.

With each passing minute, Albus looked over towards the door, hoping it would open and Scorpius would bounce through and trip over on the rug in his own unique clumsy way. On what was about the fiftieth time he looked up, the door did open. Both Astoria and Albus jumped up and ran over to Draco, demanding news.

“I think I worked it out. I’ve put him to bed. Merry is watching over him.” Draco said in his calm, demeanour, his voice cracking. Albus could see there were tears in his eyes. “Tori, what if I’ve done it wrong? What if he…”

Firmly, she cut across him. “He won’t!”

Scorpius’ room was stifling hot, he needed to be kept warm due to the chill in his body. Albus was curled up at the foot of his bed and Astoria was sitting in a large armchair at her son’s side. Neither wanted to leave Scorpius when Draco suggested they both could use a good night’s sleep. Even Merry was neglecting her duties, wanting to make sure her favourite Malfoy was going to be all right. Draco had sent an owl to the Potters to tell them Albus had decided to stay the night so they wouldn’t worry.

“You really need to sleep, Tori,” Draco said softly. She was beginning to pale, and show that hollow sickly appearance in her face that Albus remembered from his first visit. “The malediction is resurfacing.”

“I can’t leave him,” Astoria replied, her words slow.

“He won’t wake tonight,” Draco insisted and carefully picked Astoria up from the chair. With an effort she wrapped her arms around Draco’s neck, and allowed him to carry her to their bedroom down the other end of the Long Gallery.

Merry gave Albus a pillow and gently placed a rug over him, not that he needed it with the fire burning so hot.

“Thank you,” he muttered, not taking his eyes off the peacefully sleeping figure of his friend. Scorpius’ skin had changed back to its usual pale colour and his breathing was regular and normal. It didn’t look like he was in any pain.

Only when Albus heard his name, did he realise he’d fallen asleep. He blinked and shifted from his curled-up position, stretching out his arms.

“Albus? What are you doing here?” Scorpius was sitting up in bed, right as rain as though yesterday hadn’t happened.

“Scorpius!” Albus cried out, sitting up and throwing the blanket off his shoulders. “You’re awake!”

“Why are you sleeping at the end of my bed?”

“Don’t you remember what happened?”

Scorpius looked down, biting his lip, his mind running through the last thing he could remember. It was the taste of that horrible potion, the sensation of snakes wiggling down into his stomach.

“Did it work? Am I good?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Work? Did it work? You almost killed yourself! You stupid, stupid!” Albus exploded unable to think of an insult good enough and grabbed his pillow and began to hit Scorpius’ leg, repeating the word ‘stupid’ with every blow. Scorpius put his arms up to protect his face, in case the pillow attack strayed from the lower half of his body.

Draco ran into the room and waved his wand to levitate the pillow out of Albus’ hands to stop the soft but continuing onslaught. He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on Scorpius’ forehead. Satisfied with the temperature he was feeling, he let his hand gently brush over Scorpius’ hair.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Hot and now my legs are sore,” Scorpius said, giving Albus a very pointed look.

“Hot is good,” Draco replied and pointed his wand at the fire to extinguish the flames still burning merrily in the fireplace. He looked back at Scorpius, resting both hands on his son’s shoulders. “Why did you do it?”

Ashamed, Scorpius couldn’t look at his father’s penetrating stare. “I thought, I wanted to get the evil out of me,” he murmured.

“There is no evil inside you, Scorpius.”

“But our family! Look at what they’ve done. What you’ve done! I don’t want to be like that!” Scorpius exclaimed and immediately felt bad. He tried to shuffle away from his father’s hold on his arms.

“I made bad decisions. I admit that. But we gave you the chance to make your own choices and not force you down the Dark path that I grew up with,” Draco explained. “Being a Malfoy does not make you evil. You are a good and kind boy. You are already the best of us.”

Shivering in fright, Scorpius shied away from his father’s words. “That’s what the dream said. They wanted me to be Dark.”

“What dream? Who?”

Biting his lip again, Scorpius’ eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been dreaming. It started as nightmares, reminding me of all the horrible things that happened here during the Wizarding War. People tortured, killed.” He looked over to Albus to see his reaction, but Albus wasn’t shying and was interested in hearing the rest of Scorpius’ dream.

“Then after Christmas it changed. Grandfather and Great Grandfather encouraging me to do bad things, to punish people who hurt me. And Voldemort was there. He wanted me for a special task.” Scorpius paused, closing his eyes against the memory. “He wanted me to kill… to kill Albus. Weeks of it, constantly in my head. He wanted me to kill my best friend! Because that’s who I am. That’s who I am in here.” He knocked his chest with his fist and began to cry.

Albus sat open-mouthed with his arms wrapped around his knees as Draco stroked Scorpius’ hair to calm him down.

“Scorpius,” Draco said gently, “Those aren’t your dreams. They are mine. It’s what I used to dream almost every night, reminding me of all the bad choices I made. And Voldemort didn’t mean Albus Potter.”

Albus murmured to himself, remembering the story Scorpius had told him on their first trip on the Hogwarts Express, “Dumbledore.”

Scorpius looked up at his father through tear-dimmed eyes, blinking the water away. “Your dreams? But how?”

“I don’t know. But you are describing the recurring dreams I’ve had for years, the task Voldemort demanded of me,” Draco bowed his head and held onto Scorpius’ hand. “Do you dream of the Drawing Room?”

Scorpius knew exactly what his father was asking. The grisly blood-soaked floor, Voldemort and the dead bodies. “Yes,” he whispered. 

“I am so sorry,” Draco said, closing his eyes to hold back a sudden wave of emotion.

“I don’t get it, Dad. How am I dreaming your dreams?” Scorpius asked.

“When did they start?”

It was Albus who answered. “You had a nightmare when I first visited. I remember you saying.”

Scorpius nodded. “Yes, then the next one was just before Christmas. Those two were the true nightmares, the rest since then have been different. Just about the family encouraging me to finish the task, needing to live up to the Malfoy name.”

Draco held up Scorpius’ hand, the Slytherin ring he had given his son for Christmas was there, the emerald green eyes of the snake glinting in the morning light.

“This is made of goblin-wrought silver, I wonder,” Draco mused. “I wore it all through school, when my life was at its most turbulent. Goblin silver does absorb that which makes it stronger. I’ve never heard of absorbing emotions or experiences.”

“But the dreams started before you gave me this,” Scorpius countered.

“Perhaps you should stop wearing it, just in case,” Draco suggested, but to his surprise Scorpius shook his head and took his hand away, holding it against his chest.

“But I want to wear it,” he said and Draco smiled.

“At least let me look at it, make sure it’s safe,” Draco offered and held out his hand for the ring. Scorpius slipped it off his finger and dropped it into his father’s outstretched palm. “Get some more rest." Then, kissing his son’s head, causing Scorpius to go bright red of embarrassment because of the show of affection in front of his friend, Draco stood up to leave.

“Um, Dad?” Scorpius said and flicked his eyes up to where Albus’ pillow was gently bobbing on the ceiling.

“Oh. Right.” Draco flicked his wand and directed the pillow back to the bed.

When his father left the room, Scorpius rubbed his pink cheek and settled back down in under his covers, pulling them up to his nose and peering over the top at his friend.

Albus moved to sit cross-legged and leaned against one of the tall, carved bedposts. “Sorry I hit you with the pillow,” he apologised bashfully.

“It’s okay. Sounds like I deserved it,” Scorpius replied. “I’m sorry too. I should have told you what was going on but I was scared you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

“You idiot. You’re my friend,” Albus said with a smile, then it dropped just as quickly as it appeared, “I should have realised you were so upset. I didn’t even notice you got that ring for Christmas. Some useless friend, I am.”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Scorpius said, “That’s why I didn’t mention it.”

“What do you mean?”

Scorpius pushed the covers down so he could talk in a less muffled voice. “Well, all your family is in Gryffindor. It’s something that you won’t ever have. And I know you’re still thingy about being in Slytherin.”

“Thingy? Nah, I’m over that. I know I belong in Slytherin,” Albus said, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m kind of glad I’m not in the same house as James. I may have murdered him by now. Sorry, sorry, bad joke.” He quickly added when he saw the frightened look Scorpius’ face.

Scorpius pulled the blankets back up under his chin and curled up, feeling his eyes get heavy again. “I thought Mum might have been in to see me,” he yawned and snuggled into the pillow.

“She was up all night, so your dad made her get some sleep,” Albus said, biting his lip. Scorpius didn’t need to know that his mother’s illness had come on again. That could wait as he needed to rest as well. Blearily, Scorpius smiled at Albus with his eyes half-closed and then drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	11. Sweets on the Train

The rest of the holidays were spent apart for the two best friends. Albus was summoned back home and Draco insisted that Scorpius stay in bed to recover. It was only when the train back to Hogwarts for their final term of First year was leaving King’s Cross the two boys saw each other again. Albus burst into Scorpius’ compartment, excited to see his friend, and with some good news.

“Since you missed Easter holidays at mine, Mum said you can stay for a few days over the summer holidays! Oh and hello.” Albus sat down next to Scorpius and gently bumped him for a response. But Scorpius was looking out the window to the slowly diminishing figure of his father. Albus peered out the window to see what Scorpius was looking at.

“Where’s..” he started to ask when he saw Draco alone on the platform. “Oh, your mum is still ill?”

Scorpius nodded and dropped his head heavily onto Albus’ shoulder. “It’s my fault. She got so worried about me, it made her illness come back.”

“No, no. You can’t think like that,” Albus said and patted Scorpius’ head, making him move away. He wasn’t sure if Scorpius knew, but his friend’s chin was quite pointy and it hurt when he dug it into his shoulder.

“I just feel so bad. About everything,” Scorpius sighed and leaned against the window. He suddenly sat back up, looking scared. “You won’t tell anyone at school what I did, will you?”

“Of course not. I didn’t even tell Mum and Dad,” Albus replied. Scorpius let his head drop back against the window and absently he twisted the ornate silver ring that was back on his finger.

“Hey, you got it back. So, it wasn’t evil after all?” Albus asked, pointing at it.

“Dad got it checked out at Borgin and Burke’s to see if there was a Dark Curse on it,” Scorpius replied, holding it up to the light. The green stones sparkled. “Borgin couldn’t find anything and he said he hadn’t heard about Goblin-wrought silver containing memories either.”

“What was it then? Why were you dreaming?”

Scorpius shrugged. “Anxiety. That’s what the Healer from St Mungo’s told me. I was so worked up about being a Dark Wizard that it kind of manifested. The walls of Malfoy Manor have housed some terrible things.”

“The _house_ is evil?”

“No, not really. But being a hub for centuries of Dark magic, it seeps and bleeds through. Magic always leaves a trace, especially Dark magic. And I have a very active imagination. Did I ever tell you when I was little I had an imaginary friend?”

Albus couldn’t help but laugh. “You mentioned he didn’t like you,” he said, gratefully latching onto the change of subject which helped Scorpius to stop blaming himself for his mother’s illness.

The next few hours were spent in happier manner and when the Trolley Witch came through Scorpius bought them both Pepper Imps and Chocolate Frogs, those being their favourites.

“This is just like when we met,” Albus said happily. “Your mum is right. Sweets do help you make friends.”

Scorpius handed over a Chocolate Frog. “I’m not sure this year at Hogwarts would have been all that fun without you.”

Albus smiled and ripped open the Chocolate Frog box. There on the famous witch/wizard card was his father, Harry Potter, staring up at him. Glasses, scar and all, waving and looking a little embarrassed. Albus read the description although he knew it off by heart.

_Harry James Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Only known survivor of The Killing Curse. He is most remembered for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Lord Voldemort in 1998 and is currently Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He lives with his wife Ginny and three children James, Albus and Lily. He enjoys Quidditch and is a proud supporter of the Chudley Cannons. _

Albus threw the card onto the seat between them and surreptitiously Scorpius squirrelled it away in his robes.

“I saw that,” Albus said, looking at Scorpius out of the corner of his eye. But Scorpius didn’t care he’d been rumbled. He wanted the card because it mentioned his best friend; the boy who stayed to share his sweets.


End file.
